X Book 1 New Allies, New Enemies
by Leen713
Summary: Eight months after Alkalai Lake, the X-Men are faced with the challenges of a wounded world...spoilers for X2...Book One Complete
1. Prologue Mary

Book One.

            Along a mountain's edge, in a vast stretch of Arizona desert, a lone figure stood silently in the darkness.  She had come out here early to watch the sun rise.  Dawn was always her favorite time of day, and she could hear the song of the sun as its light touched the dark landscape.

            The wind blew in strong gusts against her face but she did not turn away or close her eyes to the new morning.  She was listening, awaiting the message that would soon come.

            Her name was Mary, and she was a woman apart.  

            Apart from her family, apart from her tribe, apart from the rest of the world.  She was a child of this land, her mother being a descendent of the first human beings to live among these hills, but her loyalty and love of the earth and its creatures extended far past the Reservation's borders.  Something drove her to look further and this set her apart.

            Her mother had died many years before, but had left her with an understanding of the land.  They would often listen together to the earth, and learn its joys and pains.  And, always when they were listening, her mother would be holding onto the cross of her faith, her connection to the next world as much as Mary was her connection to this one.

            They had been happy, their little family completed with her father and grandmother, but Mary had always felt she was different from them.  She was their daughter, and they loved her, but at times, she felt as if she belonged more to the heavens than the earth.

            After her parents died and her grandmother had grown ill, Mary's fascination with the other world had waned, her interests moving quickly to other things, as a child's will.  She had been only eleven when the angels found her, but it would be another ten years before she truly understood how she was different, how she was apart.

            Now, listening to the dawn, she waited for the voices of the dawn to speak.

            Something was wrong, she could feel it in her mind…and in her soul.

            _Mary… the wind whispered, _Mary…__

            She did not respond, simply listened for the words.  The air began to stir, and shadows rolled over the morning sky.  The light of the dawn became hidden, but Mary could still feel its light beyond the dark clouds.

                                                                                    _Help them...they need you…_

            _Who_

                                                                        _Listen…they're crying out…_

_            Who_

_                                                                                    Everyone…everyone is suffering…_

_            Why_

_                                                He hates…there is so much hate_

_                                                                        He does not know what he's doing…_

_                                    The time is coming…_

                                                                        _One will fall…and rise again…_

            Mary gasped out of the vision, her sight suddenly filled with an endless flame.  It swooped, dropping once to the earth before exploding again into the sky.

                                                _She will destroy them all…_

            As the last words of the vision faded away, Mary fell to her knees in pain.  She clutched her head, and realized it was not her own pain she was feeling.  It was the cries of others.  Cries of the whole world…

            After a moment, the pain passed, and before Mary could get to her feet, a second wave hit her harder than the first.  Still, she felt no pain of her own, but sensed the pain of the rest of the world.  It was different this time, but she could not say why.  She simply listened to the suffering of millions…billions, until something caused it to stop abruptly.

            _Charles woke up, she though then, having no idea who Charles was, __He didn't know what he was doing…but she will…_

            Mary clenched her fists in frustration and ground them into the rough soil.

            What did it mean?  Why would she have felt the suffering of others?  The vision had not been clear, and she listened for some explanation, but received nothing.

            Standing slowly, she dusted the dirt off of her jeans and sighed as she walked back to her car.  She sat inside for a moment silently before starting the engine.  She would have to meditate on the vision tonight.  She just wished they would have shown her a little more.

            As she drove away, she absently turned on the radio, and was startled to hear the harsh ringing of the Emergency Broadcast signal.  She pulled over quickly and waited to hear what was happening.  The thoughts of her vision gave way to more immediate concerns as a voice suddenly broke in over the harsh signal.

            "This is the National Emergency Broadcast System," a man's voice said calmly, "This is not a test.  Repeat, this is _not a test…"_

            _Could there have been an earthquake? She wondered, digging in her bag for her cell phone, _ I___ hope there's nothing wrong at the dam.  I'll call Eli in town, he'll know…_

            "Due to the sudden and unexplained phenomenon that incapacitated much of the country just a few minutes ago, all state and government offices have declared a state of emergency.  I repeat, due to the sudden attacks that seem to have affected most of the population, the United States of America has been placed on high alert.  Officials are insisting that everyone stay in their homes until the source of the attacks is identified…"

            Mary sat in cold silence as she listened to the man's urgent voice.

            _Attacks? she thought, with a shiver, remembering the pain she had heard less than ten minutes before, _But, it was a vision, they're never real…__

                                                _She will destroy them all…_

            The voice rang clearly in her head.  She had not heard a calling so clear since…since the angels had spoken to her.  

            Ten years earlier, the angels had come to her town looking for something, something she had been given to hide, and their voices had rung in her mind like songs.  Now, the songs had changed from hopeful…to fearful…

            "It wasn't a vision," she said finally, "It wasn't a vision at all, was it?"

            Without another thought, she slammed her car into gear and drove quickly into town.  Whatever had happened to the world, she had felt it, watched it happened.  

            But, for some reason...it had not happened to her.


	2. Chapter One: Guilt and Hope

Author's note:  I do not claim any ownership to and make no profit from any characters originating in the X-Men universe or any other previously published work.  This is simply an expression of my own enjoyment of their stories and characters.  

(Besides, if I didn't get my stories based on these characters on paper, I'm afraid my head might have exploded.  That would have been a real mess to get off my keyboard   :-)

***

New Friends, New Enemies – Chapter 1

            _Across the world, people fell to their knees in pain.  First, the mutants, others like himself, and then all other human beings, all falling in agony as he reached out with his mind.  Finding each one, focusing on them, fighting them, killing them…_

***

_            Eight months later…_

            In one very quiet and pleasant part of upstate New York, a man sat by a window in an empty classroom and waited for his children to arrive.  It was early, only a quarter of eight, and he knew it would still be sometime before his first class of the day began, yet, the man seemed quite content to sit alone and stare thoughtfully out at the bright morning sky.  Below him, he could sense the children moving through the mansion, preparing for their day.

            A small, warm smile touched the man's face, and his thoughtful blue eyes were lit with a quiet delight, and a not-so-subtle pride.  

            _Across the world, people fell to their knees in pain…_

            The man touched his hand to his temple and closed his eyes against the warm light.  Suddenly, the brightness of the sky burned behind his eyes…a cold, bitter fire.

            _…people fell to their knees in pain…_

            The thought surfaced again, and a dark shadow fell over his face.  The sounds of life below him faded away, the light from outside dimmed to nothingness.  All there was, everywhere, was the dark…the pain…and the cold…

            Professor Charles Xavier opened his eyes and stared out at the world silently.

            To the casual observer, he would have seemed to be simply what he appeared, a scholarly gentleman who seemed to move and speak with a learned grace.  The air about him was one of dignity, a man who stood taller than most people ever could, despite being confined to his polished wheelchair.  Yet, to those who knew him best, friends and enemies alike, they would need only to look at his eyes to know he was haunted.  To know he had been changed.

            For eight months, Charles Xavier had been haunted, by the memories of a place called Alkali Lake.  Not many have heard of it, being hidden deep in the snowy mountains of Canada, but to those who had, it was a place that lived in their nightmares, reminding them of their pain…and of their loss.

            Xavier sighed, deeply and listened again to the sounds and minds below, trying to block out those painful memories, if only for a short time.  The children had begun to wake now, all alive and eager, ready to face the challenges presented by the professor and their other teachers.  The life that echoed in Xavier's mind as he listened brought a new light into his darkness.  He wanted nothing more than to feed that fire of hope and try to forget the bitterness forming over his heart.

            Over the years since he had founded his school, Xavier had brought many gifted children off the streets and helped them grow.  He had worked to make a difference in their lives, and most of them had found more hope in the walls of the mansion than they had ever found anywhere else in the world.

            For the gifted, like himself, for mutants, the world had become a colder place than even the icy waste surrounding Alkali Lake.  In his youth, mutants had first come to the attention of the population, their proven existence changing the face of humanity like no other event had in the past.  In a time of chaotic change, mutation had suddenly become the primary taboo of the late sixties and early seventies.  Now, the burning force for civil rights and equality had become an empty indifference when it came to mutant rights, ignored by most except those who spoke out against those who were different.  Humanity was divided again, and the gap was growing.

            After all, it was difficult to convince the world that mutants deserved the right to live and exist, when there were powerful mutants determined to take that right away from the rest of the world.

            _Yet, are the lines so clearly drawn?_ Xavier thought wearily, again rubbing his temple, _How__ can those who cause pain be blamed when that is all they have known?_

            That question had also been burdening Xavier's mind of late.  In the past, he had always been so clear on right and wrong, good and evil.  But, now, after listening to the minds of those he condemned, was it fair to draw that line so clearly?

            Xavier stared out the window again, and listened to the other lives below.  These men and women were not children, though most had been when they arrived.  They were his students, his most talented and dedicated, those who chose to stay and help educate the next generation of the gifted.  

            Apart, they had been lost in a world that shunned them.  

            Together, they were strong…a team…a family.

            They were his X-Men, ready to follow him into hell and back for the good of the world…and now most of them had.  Unfortunately (and unforgivably to himself), not all of them had come back.

            As the image of a billion people dying before him rose up again in his mind, Xavier wished he could speak with the one he had lost.  He wished he could speak to Jean Grey.

            Inwardly, he knew the pain felt by the world nearly a year before had not been of his own machinations.  He had been used, his power had been used, to act on the whims of a madman.  

            Still, he could not help but think back on that incident and realize one terrifying thought.  Part of him...had enjoyed it.  Not the killing, not the pain that had been caused, only the simple yet unbelievable pleasure of feeling his powerful mind opened to its fullest.  The rush of pure energy, the lost need for control and caution…

            Everything he had taught his X-Men not to be.

            _Jean would have understood,_ he thought gravely, _Jean would have known what to say to get us through this..._

            A soft knock on the open classroom door pulled Xavier from his dark thoughts, and he turned his chair away from the window without another glance.

            "Excuse me, Professor," a clear deep voice said and Xavier smiled with effort as Dr. Henry McCoy entered the room.

            "Good morning, Henry," Xavier greeted the large man in a friendly voice.  

            McCoy returned the Professor's smile, his expression entirely more genuine, as he ducked to clear the classroom's doorway.  The long, dark blue hair that covered his skin swished lightly as he moved, his large eyes shining out from a kind, thoughtful face.

            "I hope I'm not intruding..." he began, hesitating when he noticed the distance on the other man's face.  Xavier shook his head and made a welcoming gesture with one arm.

            "Not at all," he replied, "I'm not expecting my class for at least another half hour."

            McCoy walked over to Xavier and sat down cautiously on the room's one sofa.  He lowered himself slowly, obviously still adjusting to the new massive bulk of his body.  Charles resisted the urge to look on the man with pity, knowing how difficult the past eight months must have also been for him.

            Henry McCoy had been one of the many mutants around the world who's genes had been activated by the incident at Alkali Lake, and one of many that had come to the mansion since that incident.  However, by the man's demeanor, one could almost believe that he had lived with his mutation his entire life.  Aside from the impediments caused by his body's size, Dr. McCoy seemed to have adjusted quite easily to his new physical condition, and seemed to have escaped the trauma that so many other's had endured.

            "How have you been settling in?" Xavier asked.

            "Fine...fine, everyone has been very helpful," McCoy responded, steepling his large hands politely, "This is quite a remarkable place you have here, Professor."

            Xavier nodded appreciatively, "Thank you.  And, please, feel free to call me 'Charles.'"

            McCoy looked almost sheepishly at him, "Well...maybe I'm not _entirely_ settled yet..."

            Charles laughed quietly, "I hope your first class won't be too overwhelming.  The children can be quite a handful when they want to be..."

            The larger man's eyes lit happily and he chuckled.

            "They're a delight, Professor," he replied, and then added with a wink, "Scott and Ororo have already pointed out a few of the 'handfuls' to me already.  Such remarkable gifts these children have, I feel privileged to have the chance to work with them."

            Xavier beamed as Henry spoke.  The man's optimism was almost enough to make the professor forget his earlier sad reminiscing.  Almost.

            A new shadow fell into Xavier's eyes, though McCoy did not notice as the professor spoke.

            "I trust the medical bay was found to be satisfactory," he asked, trying not to let his sorrow touch his voice.

            McCoy blinked in surprise, "Beyond satisfactory!  It may be the most impressive office and laboratory I have ever worked in.  I hope to make significant advances to my research into the mutant genome during my time here.  With your permission, I would like to..."

            He trailed off as he looked on the professor with concern.  Xavier's attention had wandered away from McCoy, and he seemed to age as his thoughts pulled him away from their conversation.

            "Of course," McCoy continued tactfully, "The lab and all of its equipment have obviously been maintained with great care.  Dr. Grey must have been a dedicated clinician..."

            The name startled Xavier back to himself, and he met McCoy's gaze again with an uneasy glance.  For a moment, neither man spoke, and finally McCoy went on.

            "And a remarkable woman," he concluded, his voice soft and soothing.  Xavier sighed deeply, and then smiled apologetically.

            "Indeed, she was," the professor replied honestly, "Her loss has been very difficult..."

            "Of course..." McCoy said, "I must admit...she's left me with some pretty big shoes to fill."

            For a moment, the large man's eyes glittered empathetically at Xavier, and then he continued with a shy grin.

            "Fortunately...I have very large feet..."

            Charles returned the smile, a touch of gratitude on his face.

            "I wish you could have known her," he said sadly.

            Henry nodded, and shifted to stand as the professor's gaze drifted again.  He waited a moment in meaningful silence before speaking again.

            "Well," he said, looking down at the professor, "I suppose I should get to my own classroom.  I have a lot of 'handfuls' to meet today."

            Making his way to the door, Henry McCoy stopped once more before leaving, and glanced back at Charles Xavier.

            "Thank you again, Professor," he said, meeting Xavier's eyes one more time, "For...everything."

            Charles nodded deeply and gave the man one more smile before he exited, again ducking to clear the door's upper edge.  The professor moved his chair again to the classroom's large window and looked out at the sky.

            _Jean would have liked him, he thought, and continued to smile as looked back on the memory of his lost student, for the first time in eight months, with something more than sorrow.        _


	3. Chapter Two: Shuffle

Chapter Two: 

            Remy LeBeau sat at the kitchen table in the School for the Gifted and shuffled a worn deck of playing cards rhythmically against its polished surface.  The steady hum and snap of the deck in his hands was soothing and helped him focus on something other than his pounding head.

            The last eight months had past for him in a blur of drunken confusion, drifting blankly from one run down gambling pit to another, as he made his way north from New Orleans along the Mississippi River.  Ever since the horrible night that his mutation appeared, Remy had tried his hardest to ignore the changes he saw in himself and just live, what he thought of as, a normal life.

            However, his quick temper, and frequently inebriated state, often triggered his powers and left him with a growing and unfavorable reputation, even among the most unfavorable people those pits could offer.  Once you've caused a loan shark's money to explode in your hand, they become more hesitant to lend you some of their green...and less hesitant to forcibly remove your solid red eyes.

            But, LeBeau (who preferred to call himself Gambit) was a gambling type of guy, and decided to play one more hand at one particular pit outside Chicago.  By the time Xavier's people arrived, he had been less than a hair trigger away from losing his hands to a couple of mutant-hatin' bounty hunters that had followed him from his previous stop. 

            By some unexpected luck, he now found himself sitting comfortably in a warm mansion instead of at the bottom of Lake Michigan. 

            Of course, he would have preferred to use that luck at the tables, but who was he to complain.  A month ago, he had been pawning his car just to have money for food, and now here he was, lounging in a large posh kitchen with enough nutritious victuals to keep him well fed for the rest of his natural life.  And, not just fodder to feed his stomach.  This was a school, full of bright minds and smart people to help him learn how to better control his power and live a decent, meaningful life.  What more could anyone want?

            _Mon Dieu, I need a drink_, Remy thought and sighed, flipping his cards repeatedly in his, thankfully still intact, hands.

            The children were all in class now, all the teachers hard at work, and Remy had waited until he was sure the place was quiet before coming downstairs.  The rug rats were hard enough not to step on when he didn't have a hangover.

            Remy set the deck down neatly, and poured himself another cup of coffee.  The pot was close to empty, and he choked down the lukewarm liquid with a grimace.  Reaching inside one pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a half empty carton of Marlboros and tapped one cigarette on the top of the cards before lighting it.  He watched the match as the flame burned and frowned deeply.

            The light was orange and blue, a trail of smoke rising delicately towards the ceiling.  To Remy LeBeau, the light reminded him of his own new abilities, and he pondered a moment on it before a voice caused him to look up.

            "Guten tach," the new arrival said in a friendly voice, as Remy blinked in surprise, and then hissed and shook his hand as the match's fire reached his fingers.  He glanced over at the second man in annoyance and took another drag on his cigarette.

            "Mornin'" Remy replied unenthusiastically as Kurt Wagner sat down across from him and folded his hands politely on the table.  He placed a small breakfast before him, and Kurt closed his eyes in quick prayer before beginning to eat.  

            Remy hated to be rude, but he could not help himself from staring at the other man for a moment before picking up his cards again.  He had met the German guy the night he had arrived, and he was still getting used to having a blue guy around all the time.

            _No,_ he thought with amusement, _Two blue guys if you count that new doc._

If Kurt noticed Remy's quick, uneasy glances, he did not seem to mind.  He simply continued to eat in silence, as Remy began his repetitious shuffling again.  Strange looks had stopped bothering Kurt many years ago, and, unlike his smoking neighbor, he had accepted the consequences of his mutation with learned tolerance.  After all, he had been born with his mutation, and to him it had never been a burden, it had simply been part of who he was.

            "So, mon ami," Remy said as he exhaled slowly, "How long have you been here?"

            Kurt glanced over at him and smiled appreciatively for the unexpected conversation.  

            "Eight months," he replied, "Ever since Ms. Monroe and Dr. Grey found me at my church.  It...was not safe there anymore...so they brought me here to meet Professor Xavier."

            Kurt looked sadly down a moment before continuing, "Unfortunately, Dr. Grey did not return with us..."

            "She was the old doc here?" Remy asked and Kurt nodded.

            "I did not know her very well," he replied softly, "But, I know Ms. Monroe and the others miss her very much."

            Remy nodded and sighed uncomfortably.  The worst part about this place was how moody everyone was all the time.  Quickly, he changed the subject.

            "They say you are a jumper, no?" he asked, deck snapping loudly.

            Kurt frowned slightly, "A...jumper...?"

            "You know..." Remy replied and demonstrated.  With a skillful movement of his fingers, he made the queen of diamonds move from the middle of the deck to the top.  

            Kurt grinned broadly and chuckled at Remy's artful description of his power.

            "Yes," he answered, "I am a teleporter."

            "Ah...that's the word..._bien_," Remy nodded with a grin, "Have to say...that particular trick would have been very useful in my business."

            "What sort of business are you in?" Kurt asked curiously.

            Remy examined one card carefully before answering.

            "Partly banking..."

            With another quick snap of his wrist, the card disappeared.

            "...partly show business."

            The blue mutant's eyes widened with delight.

            "Yes, show business..." he said, "That was my business as well.  We had many magicians who worked with us in the circus over the years."

            "Magicians?" Remy asked with a frown.

            Kurt nodded and motioned towards the shuffling cards, "Though many didn't do card tricks for the crowd..."

            Remy chuckled and tapped the deck dramatically.

            "No, mon ami," he said, "I'm no magician.  And I usually have a hard time disappearing when I need to.  Guess you put on a pretty good act with your gift, no?"

            Kurt smiled, "I suppose, but I was not a magician either.  I was a trapeze artist in Munich.  They called me the Amazing Nightcrawler!"

            Remy nodded slowly, his face dark and thoughtful compared to his enthusiastic friend.

            "Was it easier there?" he asked, "Being a mutant, I mean."

            Kurt shrugged and smiled.  Gambit's question was one he had been asked often since coming to Xavier's school, and he still did not have a real answer for it.

            "Yes and no," he replied honestly, "It was easier in some ways, but only because everyone _expected_ to see people who were different there.  They weren't so...surprised.  But, I would not say that the children here have a _hard_ life, at least not compared to some of the people who worked at the circus.  The children here have been blessed in many ways, having regular meals and teachers who care for them.  Many in the circus were not so lucky..."

            Kurt sighed sadly, and pulled something from his pocket.  Remy watched him carefully as Kurt fingered the rosary devotedly.

            "I consider _myself_ very blessed for what I have," he said, "Both from the circus and now here."

            Remy shifted, a bit uncomfortably, at the other man's sudden somber tone.

            "Oui," he said, unsure of how else to reply, "I guess this beats some of the dives in the Big Easy, too."

            Kurt looked up at him, instantly brightening, "The children are wonderful to have around.  They were the one thing I missed the most about performing.  So joyful and happy.  Ms. Monroe said many of them came from very bad places."

            Remy inwardly grimaced, not entirely sharing Kurt's enthusiasm for all the kids running around all the time, but nodded and grinned at the blue mutant.  

            "_Les enfants sont le futur," he said and snapped the deck again against the table._

            As if on cue, the sounds of many footsteps began to rumble above them.  Kurt grinned and Remy dropped his cards into one pocket before massaging his temples.  He did not mind joyful _petits_, but he wished their joy was a little quieter.

            Both men looked up as a young woman entered the kitchen.  Rogue smiled and greeted each man in turn, her dark brown and white hair pulled back from her face.

            "Hi, Kurt," she said, and then glancing at Gambit quickly, "Good mornin', Mr. LeBeau."

            Kurt gave her a cheery 'guten tach,' and Remy nodded.

            "Good morning," he mumbled through his hangover, though he was watching her curiously as she moved to sit with them.  She seemed very young, no more than twenty, but Remy had noticed that most of the other adults treated her as a peer.  She carried herself with a quiet grace and her large dark eyes always seemed very somber.  Remy wondered what kind of an inner burden she carried at such a young age.

            _Maybe that's just what happens when you're a mutant_, he thought unhappily, _Glad to know I have so much to look forward to._

"How was Jeffrey's dentist appointment yesterday?" Kurt asked her and Rogue grinned.  Remy thought it took many years off her young face.

            "Um...interestin' I guess," she said, her voice accented lightly, "He got a little nervous at first and camouflaged himself against the wall.  Took us a bit to find him but Dr. McCoy was able to coax him into the chair eventually."

            Kurt laughed, "At least he didn't try to turn blue like he did when I first met him."

            Remy listened to their chitchat with vague interest, and he was the only one to notice Ororo Monroe enter the room.  He gave her a little salute and she smiled.  Storm had been a part of the team that found Remy in Chicago, along with Cyclops and the Ice kid.

            "Rogue," she said in a soft voice, "Dr. McCoy wanted to see you in the lab when you get a moment."

            "Alright, I was plannin' to head down anyway" she said.  

            Storm nodded and turned to Kurt.

            "Would you mind giving me a hand?" she asked with a grin, "It's Artie's turn to see Dr. McCoy and he won't come down from the ceiling.  It might be easier if you go with him..."

            Kurt smiled and rose, replying quickly, "Of course...where is he?"

            Storm motioned with one hand, "In the front stairway...thank you."

            Watching the conversation, Remy could have sworn the blue mutant blushed before heading out of the room.  After Kurt shut the kitchen door, Remy noticed Storm watching him with her arms folded.  She was studying him carefully, and he suddenly knew what her next words would be.

            "You were out drinking again last night," Storm said, looking at him coolly as she noticed the spent cigarette on the table, "And you have been smoking in the mansion."

            Gambit sighed audibly, but Storm continued before he could reply.

            "This is a school, Mr. LeBeau," she said, "And it must be respected as one."

            He nodded resignedly, but not very convincingly.

            "I am sorry, Ms. Monroe," he replied, "I surely am, but I'm not a student and what I do outside the school is _my_ business."

            "Regardless," she said, "We do not want the children exposed to..."

            _The children_, he thought, rubbing his temples as she spoke, _What about the Cajuns?  Why doesn't anyone ever want to save them?_

"Are you listening to me?" Storm asked, and he saw anger flash in his eyes.

            "Yes, ma'am," he said sarcastically and he saw her face change slightly.  Storm sat down next to him and suddenly looked almost apologetic.

            "We just ask for caution, that's all," she said, "You _are_ an adult, and we can't dictate to you what you do.  But, my concerns about your behaviors are not simply setting a bad example for the children.  You've said yourself that your powers can be difficult to control when you have been drinking.  We just don't want to see you harm yourself..."

            Storm met his eyes firmly, "I've seen what happens when a mutant allows their gifts to get out of their control."

            Remy sighed again.  He loved that she was beautiful but he hated that she was right.

            "I know...believe me, _I know_," he said, "Just hard to stay on the wagon when it's been draggin' you around for so long.  The last year hasn't exactly been an easy time."

            _Mon Dieu, that sounds stupid_, he thought, _Here I've had this fucking power for a few months and I'm ready to drown all my fucking sorrows while this _femme_ has had her powers for a lot longer and she isn't a drunk or junkie..._

"I didn't mean to lecture," Storm said with a grin, "Just sort of a habit.  I actually wanted to know if you would like to see some of the lower levels today.."

            "Do I have that kind of '_clearance?_'" he said with a flirtatious grin, waggling his fingers to imitate quotation marks.  

            Storm's expression remained serious, but inwardly she was amused.  This "Gambit" had been more than friendly to most of the women in the mansion since the night he arrived and, despite their apathy to his attentions, he never seemed to entirely give up on trying.

            "Not to all the levels," she replied, "But I would like to show you something to may find useful.  It is our training room; we call it the Danger Room, for obvious reasons.  It's a safe place to practice using your power, without having to worry about harming anyone."

            Gambit looked at Storm thoughtfully, "Is that how you learned to control your power?"

            Storm smiled and nodded, "Control is a mutant's first defense against the outside world.  A mutant out of control is a dangerous mutant, and that's what the world fears.  However, a mutant who can focus and manage their gifts successfully will be the one who can live in peace."

            "Do you really believe that?" Gambit asked, studying her closely.

            "I _have to believe that," she said firmly, her tone almost regal, leaving not room for argument.  Gambit grinned again, and feathered out his deck of cards dramatically._

            "Alright then, _ma chere," he said, "Let's go see your __Danger Room."_

            Storm nodded and rose, "Meet me at the main elevator after lunch.  Dr. McCoy's class will be over then.  I promised him a tour as well."

            Remy nodded and watched Storm as she walked across the room and out the kitchen door.  He grinned and flipped the deck casually with one thumb.  Definitely a higher class of women here than in the casinos.  

            Inwardly, he did hope whatever this "Danger Room" was, that it would be able to help him keep his hands under control (at least most of the time).  

            Glancing around the very posh kitchen, he supposed he had better start appreciating this place.  Good food, beautiful women, nice clean bed.

            _Still could use a drink though, he thought and decided to head out for some fresh air and another cigarette before the kids came down for lunch._


	4. Chapter Three: Searching

Chapter 3:

            Bobby Drake sat in one of the many rooms beneath Xavier's mansion, typing quickly on the keyboard in front of him.  On one large computer screen, a seemingly endless row of names scrolled downward as Bobby uploaded the latest information Cerebro had gathered into the mansion's main network.

            His eyes were focused on the screen, occasionally glancing at his fingers as he typed.  In his concentration, his brow furrowed slightly, though not in a frown.  His face was young and confident, but like many others in the mansion, he carried a quiet shadow of maturity far beyond his years.

            As the names of newly identified mutants flashed across the screen, Bobby monitored each entry to ensure that the proper data was being added.  Names were matched with addresses, birth dates, nationality, as well as probable aspects of their mutations and the possible risk factor of each mutant's particular gifts.

            There were mutants from every age group, every social class and every country.  Their gifts ranged from simple mental and physical abilities, such as enhanced photographic memories or keen senses, to the most extreme mutations of the body and mind.  It was this latter group whom the Professor was most interested in.

            Bobby sighed and stretched, without looking away from the screen.  The volume of names and information may have been intimidating for some, but Bobby actually found comfort in his task.  A reassurance that there were others, outside of Xavier's school, who understood the same struggles he had faced in his life…and with his family.

            After Alkalai Lake, there had been a sudden increase in the number of mutants reported around the world.  The event had baffled so-called 'experts' on the 'mutant phenomenon' and forced most people to reevaluate the existence of mutants in their everyday life.

            However, that had not made the lives of mutants easier by any means.  If anything, the element of the world's population who were hostile to mutants had become more violent in recent months.

            For this reason (and other more personal ones), the Professor had decided to monitor the mutant population with more scrutiny.  Through their new database system, which Storm and Cyclops were still perfecting, they could more easily identify individuals who may be in danger...or who were dangerous themselves.  Their mission, of course, was always to protect and educate any mutants who could not hide who they were from the world. 

            However, Bobby knew the Professor had another reason for locating and identifying dangerous mutants quickly.  Xavier's school was not the only 'mutant organization' interested in those extremely powerful individuals.  

            For months, the X-Men (of which Bobby was now an active member) had been trying to gather information on the whereabouts of one particular mutant 'activist,' a gentleman named Erik Lensherr, known to the X-Men as Magneto.

            Unfortunately, Magneto had always been the one person the Professor was not able to sense through Cerebro, and that made tracking the actions of him and his followers effectively almost impossible.  

            There had not been many sightings of the members of the Brotherhood of Mutants since they fled Alkalai Lake.  Only one event had occurred, and that was the dramatic "death" of Senator Robert Kelly about a month after Magneto escaped.  The "Senator" had boarded his private helicopter after a rousing speech for mutant rights, waving to cameras and voters alike, looking forward to a bright future.  Then, _tragically_, the helicopter had exploded and crashed over the Atlantic Ocean.  The Coast Guard reported no survivors, and no bodies were ever found.

            The source of the fire that destroyed the helicopter was never determined, though Bobby had a fairly good idea who was responsible.  When he had questioned the Professor, he confirmed that he had sensed several familiar minds around the crash site, including Mystique…and Pyro, who Bobby had known as John Allerdyce.

            Privately, Bobby and Rogue had spoken together a few times about Pyro, but the conversation always felt like they were discussing someone who had died instead of simply flown away.  Their friend had suddenly become their enemy, and neither them were ready to think of what might happen when they see him again.

            Bobby was startled from his thoughts when the doors to the lab opened behind him.  He turned his chair slightly to glance at the new arrival.

            Scott Summers entered the lab quickly, marching more than walking, and headed over to where Bobby was sitting.  His expression was fairly neutral, though obviously focused on his present task.  He gave Bobby a quick grin and, despite the ruby quartz glasses covering Scott's eyes, Bobby could tell it seemed strained.

            Scott, out of all the X-Men, had changed the most over the past eight months.  For obvious reasons, he had been the one most dramatically affected by the events at Alkalai Lake and his time of mourning had been frequently disrupted by his own duties and responsibilities, to his students and the X-Men.  

            However, that had not necessarily been a bad thing.      To Bobby, it seemed that those duties and responsibilities actually helped Scott cope with Jean's loss.  While Scott was obviously weathered by months of sorrow, he was able to focus his grief and anger into a driving force for his work with his students.  

            There was a quiet dignity about him that demanded respect, even if you did not want to give it, which is why he worked so effectively with mutant adolescents.  No matter how aloof or rigid he seemed, his students (and the other X-Men) knew he would be someone to lead you through the most difficult of times, despite any amount of pain he may be feeling himself.

            Unfortunately, the part of him that held any youthful innocence had been numbed, and the added demands he put on himself, he also expected from his team.  

            Scott placed one hand one the console of the large computer and stared at the screen intently.  Bobby gave him a grin in return, and waited for the question he knew was about to be asked.

            "How's it been running?" Scott asked, right on cue.  

            "Pretty good now," Bobby replied, trying to sound cheerful, "The fields we were losing in the information database are loading without any problems.  And the uploading from Cerebro seems a lot quicker…"

            Scott nodded thoughtfully as Bobby spoke, and then asked, "How much faster has it been running?"

            Bobby shrugged, "Um, at least three times as fast as before.  This grouping is almost finished and it's only been an hour.  Last time it took all morning…"

            "Good," Scott said firmly, "Let me know if there are any problems."

            "Will do," Bobby answered with a grin, "Do you think we'll be heading out to see anybody on this list soon?"

            Scott frowned, "That'll be for the Professor to decide.  Although there are several people listed I want him to consider.  Keep track of any mutant with higher than average readings, ok?"

            "No problem," Bobby said, and then thought, _Might be a longer list than he thinks._

            "Don't forget about the training session after lunch," Scott said, "Storm's planning to show the Danger Room to Dr. McCoy and a few of the other new arrivals.  It'll be good to have someone with experience around to demonstrate how the Room works."

            Bobby glanced over at Scott doubtfully, "I've only been in there a few times.  Are you sure you or Storm wouldn't be better…"

            Scott grinned, "This is still a training session for you, Iceman.  Don't start thinking you're going to get the day off every time a tour comes through."

            Bobby laughed.  At least Cyclops still had a little sense of humor while he was acting like an X-Men drill sergeant.

            "Gotcha," he replied, "I'll be there."

            Scott nodded curtly, but with a grin, and headed out into the hall.

            Bobby sighed, disappointed that he would not be having a free afternoon, but anxious to have training in the Danger Room again.  While he power was well under control, it was fun to push his limits and see exactly what he could do in a battle situation.  Not that he hoped to use them in real life any time soon…


	5. Chapter Four: Classroom Conversations

Chapter Four:

            "Thank you all for your attention," Professor Xavier said with a warm smile, "I hope this wasn't too boring for anyone…"

            In a small classroom on the second floor of the mansion, Xavier sat at the head of a loose circle of students as their lesson drew to a close.  He glanced at each one and felt quietly satisfied by their rapt expressions.

            A sprinkle of laughter ran through his small literature class.

            Xavier did not need to read their minds to know he had their full attention.

            They were reading "Gates of Fire," about the battle of Thermopylae, and Xavier was fairly sure no one could call the battle of three hundred Spartans versus a hundred thousand Persians a dull lesson.

            "Does any one have any questions before we adjourn?" he asked his students.  Aside from the epic war story, Xavier hoped they would understand the message he was trying to draw from the text.

            With a curious frown, Tracy Roarke raised her hand.  She was a fiery redhead and spoke with a slightly Irish brogue.

            "Do you think they knew, Professor?" she asked, "I mean, didn't the Spartans realize they couldn't win the battle?"

            Xavier nodded thoughtfully, "That's an interesting question, Tracy.  The Spartans, after all, were exceedingly well-trained soldiers.  Many had been enlisted in their army since they were children.  And, I think even the most novice strategist would know that the odds of three hundred against one hundred thousand were not exactly favorable."

            "But..." Tracy continued, "That means they _knew_ they were going to die."

            "That's true," the Professor agreed, "So why do you think they stayed to fight?"

            "So that the other Greek people could escape Athens," Peter Rasputin answered, "Because it was the honorable thing to do."

He was by far the tallest student in the class, and he spoke in a quiet Russian accent, though his deep voice made him sound much more commanding.

Tracy rolled her eyes, "And it wasn't because they were so arrogant that they didn't think they would lose?"

            "There's a difference between being arrogant and being brave," Peter argued, "Someone who is just arrogant wouldn't be willing to die for others."

            "I'm _saying_..." Tracy continued, raising her voice slightly, "What if they didn't think they were going to die?  You know, because they were _so good _at fighting wars."

            Xavier gave the debaters a pleased smile as they argued, though he monitored them carefully.  He had seen such arguments between the pair get out of hand in the classroom.  

Peter was quiet but firm in his opinions and Tracy, more than any of the other students, enjoyed a good argument, but had some difficulty keeping her temper in check.  She had earned her nickname 'Siryn' and a shouting match with her was something most others tried to avoid.  The Professor hoped to get through one semester without needing the classroom windows replaced.

"That would've been foolish," Peter said, "There's no way they would've thought they would win.  They just wanted to let their families escape."

"And they were _arrogant_ enough to think they could fight off the Persians for long enough to get everyone out of the _whole _city," Siryn shot back.  Her voice was getting louder on every word and the other students were glancing at the Professor nervously.

"The Spartans were confident and brave, not arrogant," Peter said, regarding Siryn calmly.  Xavier knew the fact that she could not get the older boy to lose his cool only instigated her.

"Maybe it was both," another voice added suddenly, breaking the tension between the other two.  Jamie Madrox froze when all eyes fell on him, and took a deep breath before continuing.  Jamie was typically open and friendly to everyone, always willing to talk someone's ear off if they let him, but he hated being the center of attention.  

"Maybe they were arrogant," he said, after a moment, "But I think they needed to be.  I mean, if I was looking down that hill at a hundred thousand soldiers ready to kill me, I think I would want to be cocky instead of scared shi...scared out of my mind."

The Professor nodded to Jamie, grateful that another student was willing to give their opinion on the matter, even though Siryn was throwing him angry glances.

"That's an excellent point, Jamie," Xavier said, "They may have been arrogant in order to be noble in the face of great peril.  They had a duty to their people and despite the inevitable end that awaited them they..."

"They sacrificed themselves," Jubilation Lee interrupted quietly, "They gave their lives to save others."

The other students glanced over to her, some shifting uncomfortably.  Jubilee was sitting with her arms folded on the desk, her normally bubbly personality dampened by their conversation.

Xavier kept his expression even, though inwardly he sympathized with Jubilee.  She had been the only student in this class who had been with the X-Men at Alkalai Lake, and he knew the message of the book made the most sense to her.

"Sometimes that's what needs to be done, right, Professor?" she said, looking up at him sadly.

Xavier sighed.  He had been asking himself that for eight months, and did not have an answer.

"In times of great crisis," he said, "There is always the chance for acts of great bravery.  Call it confidence or arrogance, the Spartans had enough faith in their own abilities to know they would be able to hold off the Persian invaders.  And, even though they may not be the victors of that battle, their victory lie in the fact that they would have saved thousands of their own people.  But, typically, people do not come face to face with that extreme circumstance.  It is in your day to day life where you also need that distinction.  By both understanding your strengths, and recognizing your weaknesses, you are able to balance and control your own life."

            The classroom was silent, both thoughtful and sad.  Xavier remained composed, but inwardly empathized with all of them.  Despite all his skill as a teacher and mentor, he knew that the students themselves would need to work through this crisis and their losses in their own way.  

After a moment, a voice broke the silence.

"But that means we each have the chance to do great things too," Kitty Pryde said with a small smile, glancing brightly around at her friends, "That means we each have the chance to help people, make the world better...in our own way."

The room seemed to relax, and Xavier smiled appreciatively.  

Everyone still seemed very somber, until Siryn sighed audibly and folded her arms dramatically.

"Ay," she agreed, "Frankly, I think the world will be better as soon as _certain_ people realize _I'm always right_."

Siryn glanced over at Peter with a wicked grin, and he rolled his eyes and laughed.  Jamie looked very relieved as the tension left the room, and Kitty nudged Jubilee until she smiled.

"Well," the Professor said, "Perhaps we'll test that theory next time.  Right now, it's time for lunch."

The students rose from their seats and prepared to leave.  Jamie ran up next to Peter as they left the classroom and grinned.

"Too bad the Spartans didn't have someone around with your powers," He said, glancing up slightly to see the taller boy, who just laughed and shook his head.  On the cover of Peter's notebook was a very intricate drawing of a Spartan helmet.  Peter was also known as Colossus and was able to make his skin impervious at will.

Siryn walked up to Jamie quickly, not quiet ready to forgive her for interrupting her debate.

"I think they would've been better off with you, Jamie m'boy," she said loudly.  She gave him a friendly clap on the back, which caused him to stumble as he entered the hall.

Jamie yelped in surprise, and fell to the floor.  The other students leapt away from him as he split into several identical copies.  Siryn put her hands on her hips and chuckled as five angry Jamies glared up at her.

"Hey!" the Jamies shouted in annoyance, before standing in unison and gathering up his books.  Each copy rubbed one temple, as sudden splitting cause Jamie to have a headache, which fortunately was also divided across his separate selves.

"They would'a had more soldiers that way!" she could not help but add.

"That!"

"Was!"

"Not!"

"Funny!"

"Tracy!"

Each Jamie spoke in turn and Siryn giggled.  She held up her hands in truce and hooked elbows with two of the copies.

"Oh, relax, or you'll never pull yourself together," she said, "Come on, boyos! Let's go get some lunch!"

Each Jamie seemed to perk up at this idea and they followed her happily towards the kitchen.

Scott was heading towards them down the hall and smiled courteously as one Siryn and five Jamies passed.  As they moved away, his face darkened again and he headed toward the Professor's classroom, any facade of amusement fading away.  He hated to see the students using their powers to recklessly.  

"Come in, Scott," Xavier called as he neared the doorway.  Scott entered and stood quietly until the Professor turned around.  Xavier gave him a welcoming smile, and motioned for Scott to sit.

"I have the latest data for you from Cerebro," he said curtly, "There are several candidates I think we should consider."

"Alright," the Professor said, taking the files from Scott, "I'll review them after the end of classes today."

Scott nodded, "Bobby said the new system is working much faster now.  We should have all the data from Cerebro in the computer by tomorrow."

"Very good," the Professor replied, "I'm glad to see Bobby's learning the systems so quickly."

"I'm going to have him in the Danger Room for this afternoon's demonstration," Scott said, "I hope he'll help teach the other students how to use it.  Some of them seem to need a little extra training in control."

"Are you referring to the incident in the hall a moment ago?" Xavier asked.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "We shouldn't allow such disregard for safety to continue."

"We can't treat the students like soldiers, Scott," Xavier said with a frown.

"No, but a certain measure of discipline must be observed."

Xavier sighed, "Their children.  Just as you were when you arrived.  If I recall, you didn't much like the rules here either."

"Things are different now, Professor," he said, "The world is much too dangerous for carelessness."

"There's a difference between carelessness and playfulness," Xavier said, "Sometimes it takes children to remind us of that."

Scott sighed, "I'm just worried they might start pulling pranks like that in public."

"I'm afraid pranks are inevitable," Xavier said, and then added with amusement, "That's no different than when you were a student either, Scott."

Xavier was pleased to see his former student suddenly smile nostalgically.

"No, I guess not," Scott agreed, "But, you have to admit, these kids have a lot more to worry about than we did."

"Indeed," Xavier said, "Did you happen to watch McKenna's address last night?"

            Scott nodded, "Glad to see he's still trying to help fight the Registration Act."

"And, of course, without the influence of 'Senator Kelly,' that will be much more difficult," Xavier added, "Fortunately, as long as the President continues to support our work here, and the efforts of other community mutant groups, public opinion seems to favor mutants also."

"That can change easily, though," Scott said, "We saw it after Liberty Island.  As soon as word got out that a 'mutant terrorist group' was responsible, public opinion was not so favorable."

Xavier nodded, deciding not to bring up that they also saw the same backlash after Akalai Lake.  He knew Scott did not like to discuss those difficult memories while he was engaged in his duties.

"Very true," Xavier agreed, "However, while the political climate _is_ favorable, we must take full advantage of our resources, the President being only one.  Have you made the final preparation for tomorrow's trip?"

"Yes, everything is ready," Scott said, "Storm and I will fly out to Arizona and meet her at the Reservation.  Her grandmother seemed very happy that we were coming."

Xavier looked thoughtfully out the window.  He was very interested in the candidate from Arizona.  When Cerebro had identified her, the readings had been slightly different than other mutants, and she had been much more difficult to get a lock on than most.  Xavier was curious to see the extent of her powers.

Mary Sloane was in her early twenties and was a precognitive, from what they learned from conversations with her grandmother.  She had 'flashes' of future events, though since the events of eight months before, those 'flashes' had become more frequent…and more violent.

"I'm wondering if I should go along with you," Xavier said, still gazing out across the back lawns of the mansion.

Scott frowned, "Do you think we'll have trouble locating her once we get out there?"

"No," Xavier said and turned with a small smile, "I think she'll be expecting us.  However, I am interested in seeing why Cerebro had such difficulty finding her signal.  After all, none of us have actually spoken to her yet.  Our initial contact was from her grandmother, even though it had been at Mary's own request.  I'm wondering if she may have concerns regarding other gifts, which she has not yet disclosed to us or her family."

"Do you think she may be dangerous?" Scott asked, not willing to allow the Professor to be drawn into a possibly hazardous situation, no matter how interesting this mutant may be.

Xavier shook his head with a thoughtful frown, "No, I don't think so.  I didn't sense _any hostility from her at all.  I think she's as curious about us as we are about her."_

Scott nodded and stood from his chair, obviously not entirely convinced that the Professor's decision to join them tomorrow was the safest option.

"I'll let Storm know about the change in plans," he said, "And I'll let Kurt know he'll be in charge of the students while we're gone since you'll be going with us."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted," Xavier said with a grin, "The children never give him any trouble, although Rouge may need to help Kurt get some of them to their checkups with Dr. McCoy."

Scott's eyes darkened again at the mention of the new doctor, but quickly gathered himself.  He knew it was not fair to treat their new staff member with such as detachment, but Scott could not help but think of Dr. McCoy as Jean's replacement.  It forced him to accept her loss, something which he was not entirely prepared to do.

"Of course," Scott said stonily, "I'll see you at the Danger Room, Professor."

Scott walked out of the room, and Xavier sighed sadly, staring again out the window.  From where he sat, he could see some of the children enjoying the mild afternoon, as winter slowly faded into spring.  He hoped the milder weather would help improve the dreary mood that continued to linger around the mansion.


	6. Chapter Five: Small Jumps, Big Steps

Author's Note:  Sorry it has taken so long to update (and such a terribly short chapter!).  Life very busy plus had wisdom teeth out.  And, though painkillers may alter the mind and bring inspiration to some, they just make me loopy.  

Thanks for all the reviews...and now a little Kurt for the maniacs (I hope to do a full book for him so bear with me!  :-)

Chapter Five:

            "See now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Kurt Wagner asked the child beside him with a grin.

            Artie grumbled unhappily, massaging one side of his jaw with his hand.  Dr. McCoy had found a cavity in one of Artie's molars and it had been a small fight to get him to sit still while it was filled.  Luckily, the doctor had not seemed too put off by the boy's reaction, or the fact that Artie's tongue was forked and each of his teeth were a little sharper than normal.  

            They were walking down one of the long white and silver hallways that ran beneath Xavier's school.  Students were not generally permitted in the lower levels, and most jumped at the chance of seeing the 'top secret' labs.  However, dental check-up day was the one time they tried to avoid being escorted to the lower medical bay.

            In recent months, Kurt had earned this duty, especially with the younger children.  When he had first arrived at the mansion, the students whom he had rescued with Storm at Alkalai Lake had spread stories around the school about his abilities, and how he had teleported them out of their cell.  The fact that he had once performed in the circus also added to their curiosity and he had frequently spotted the children watching him closely.

At first, many of them had been a little nervous because of his strange blue skin and long tail, but anyone who spoke with Kurt quickly warmed up to him.  His soft-spoken and patient demeanor stood in stark contrast to his almost 'demon-like' exterior.

Listening to his many stories about his life in Munich soon became the favorite pre-bedtime activity of the younger students.  He told tales like a practiced performer, accenting his stories with exaggerated acrobatics and building suspense with his voice.  

A conversation with him could also be quite mesmerizing, and the children had formed a quiet respect in regards to the blue mutant.  It became quickly obvious that he had a knack at working with children who were belligerent or withdrawn.  He had been born with his mutation and most children with obvious physical differences worked more willingly with someone whom they felt could identify with their struggles.

Artie glanced up at Kurt with a frown.  

"Do I _have to_ come back again next week?" he asked unhappily.

Kurt smiled sympathetically, "Yes, I'm afraid so.  Dr. McCoy just wants to check up on that cavity.  He promised no more fillings as long as you brush your teeth more often."

Artie grumbled again, and paused as they approached the elevator.  He suddenly gave Kurt a wicked grin.

"Let's teleport up instead!" he said enthusiastically.  Kurt laughed.

"You promise me you won't give Ms. Monroe any more problems when you go to see the doctor, yes?" Kurt asked, trying to look serious.

Artie nodded and grinned widely.  Kurt placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready!" Artie replied happily.  Kurt closed his eyes to focus, but continued to grin with amusement.  Not many of the children liked the idea of teleporting, but Kurt could not help but indulge the ones who asked to try.

**_* BAMPF *_**

In less than a heartbeat, Kurt and Artie found themselves standing in another hall, one story up from where they had been.  Kurt kept his hands on Artie's shoulders, as the boy stumbled a little from the unusual 'jump.'

Artie laughed, "Cool!  See you later, Kurt!"

Kurt waved to the boy as he ran off, and then greeted several other students who had been surprised by the sudden new arrivals.  

"Showing off again?" a voice called to him.  Kurt turned and noticed Storm heading towards him from down the hall.  She had an amused smiled on her face, and an armload of textbooks.  Kurt politely relieved her of some of them and she thanked him appreciatively.

 "I suppose," he replied, and then added with a shrug, "Once a performer, always a performer, I guess."

Kurt grinned sheepishly, secretly thanking God for his blue skin as he felt the heat rising in his face, as he maneuvered the books onto a nearby cart. 

Storm nodded and smiled, "I'm heading down to the Danger Room.  Bobby will be demonstrating its uses to Dr. McCoy and a few others.  Are you going?"

Kurt nodded, "I would like to.  I have only seen this Danger Room once, and never when it was being used for training.  Bobby seemed to be looking forward to 'showing off' himself."

Storm chuckled, "Let's hope he does more than put on a good show."

She reached over the pushed the down button on the elevator and glanced at her watch with annoyance.

"I was hoping Mr. LeBeau would be coming also," Storm said, "He seemed interested in...oh, there he is."

Kurt turned and saw Gambit strolling up towards them.  His hands were inside the pockets of his long overcoat, and he glanced around the hall with vague interest as he walked.  He seemed to be in a much better mood than earlier, and Storm assumed his hangover must have passed.  

Gambit nodded politely to Kurt and then grinned broadly at Storm.

"Hope is a _wonderful_ thing, ma chere," he said and then added with a wink, "For you hoped, and here I am..."

Storm's expression remained friendly and even, though it did not escape her attention that he had somehow heard their conversation before he entered the hall.  She knew he had been involved with some unsavory individuals in the past, and his ability to see and hear things around him without being seen himself was a learned talent.

"I'm glad you decided to join us," she said, and the elevator chimed open, "Shall we?"

Gambit hesitated a moment before following Storm and Kurt through the doors.  For some reason, he felt as if this was the final step away from his old life.  Then, he thought of his new powers, and how destructive he knew those powers could be, and decided to continue forward, despite whatever this new life would bring.


	7. Chapter Six: The Danger Room

Author's Note:  Hey, a nice big chapter to make up for the last short one!  Now I'm not familiar with the comics so I don't know much about the "Danger Room" so the design and way it works is totally out of my own head (oh, God help us  :-).  Let me know if I'm close to right.  If not, I'll deal with it.  

***

            A few levels below the mansion's first floor, a small group of people stood before several large windows, which overlooked a massive chamber nearly three stories in height.  Its walls shone a dull silver, the same as the underground hallways, and in the center was a tri-leveled platform, circular in shape, and crowned with a spherical black machine.  

            At the center machine, Rogue stood with Bobby 'Iceman' Drake making final preparations for their 'training demonstration.'  They were programming in Bobby's regular training routine, though Rogue thought he looked nervous at the idea of having an audience.

            "Ok," Bobby said with an audible sigh, "We're all set..."

            Rogue put a reassuring hand on his arm, noticing how frequently Bobby kept glancing over at the large windows.

            "Don't worry," Rogue said, "You've done this dozens of times..."

            "Twenty-seven," Bobby said, and then added with a somber grin, "Well...twenty-eight if you count that first session when I nearly froze my own hand off."

            "You'll be fine," she said, leaning forward to brush her lips gently against his cheek.  The touch was brief, not enough to drain any of his powers, but enough to make Bobby grin and blush.  Rogue gave his hand one last squeeze of reassurance with her gloved fingers and headed out of the chamber.

            By the time she reached the observation room, Bobby had taken his place to begin the training sequence.  The group welcomed her quietly as she entered, but mostly kept their attention on Bobby.

            Aside from herself, there were seven others present for the demonstration.  Storm and Cyclops were monitoring the computer systems, while the Professor took his customary place by the central window.  He was the only one facing away from Bobby at this moment, as he gave a brief introduction of the systems to their guests.

            "As you can see on the monitors," the Professor was saying, "The Danger Room has been designed to adapt itself to the unique needs of each mutant's powers.  Since our gifts vary so greatly, it was essential to have a training facility that was equally as varied..."  
            Rogue walked around the back to the room and sat next to Kurt, who was crouched in one corner, paying close attention to Xavier's every word, his tail waving back and forth thoughtfully.  

            "There are programs for both physical and mental training, to help focus the body and mind in the most intense situations..."

            As the Professor continued, Rogue glance around at the others curiously.

            At one end of the room, Henry McCoy stood next to a tall table, scribbling notes in a large binder.  His large teeth were biting on his bottom lip as he concentrated on Xavier's introduction.  Rogue noticed that he wore a pair of thick wire spectacles, which were barely visible under the long blue hair of his face.  The glasses, along with his white laboratory coat, reminded her of her ninth grade natural science teacher, and she chuckled inwardly when she thought of how much more interesting that class would have been with Henry as the teacher.

            Next to him sat Peter Rasputin, also known as Colossus, who was one of the oldest students in Xavier's school and who, along with Rogue and Bobby, had been interested in continuing his work with the X-Men.  Aside from his art, the world of Xavier's school was his whole life and he had been interested in training more with his powers.

             Finally, leaning up against a far window, stood Remy LeBeau, who was handling a deck of cards but not shuffling as before out of deference to the Professor as he spoke.  He glanced slowly between Xavier and the room below, his face dark and still.  Rogue thought he looked anxious, and she wondered why the Professor had been so insistent on his presence.  She knew his powers had to do with energy surges, much like Cyclops, but she had never seen him use them.  

            It took her a moment to realize that he was staring back at her.

            Rogue blinked and looked away, a little embarrassed.  The intensity she saw in his face had caught her off guard.  There had been almost a questioning in his eyes, a cautious wondering that made her strangely uncomfortable.  Gambit must have recognized her uncertainty because when she looked back he was looking out the windows again.

            "Now," the Professor said, concluding his speech and turning to face the Danger Room, "Why don't we get started?"

            Cyclops nodded to Storm, who radioed to Bobby to prepare.

            The lights in the observation room went dark, and Rogue stood and moved closer to the windows.

            Bobby stood solidly below, any trace of anxiety gone from his face.  He waited, patiently, for the computer to make the first move.

***

            Ducking skillfully to the left, Bobby dodged the first barrage of simulated gunfire that came from the far wall.  

            From the machine in the center, a long metallic arm stretched upward, and began to fire small spherical balls toward Iceman's location.  

            Iceman narrowed his eyes and raised one arm protectively.  From his outstretched fingers, tendrils of ice intercepted the attack, knocking each "bullet" away from him.

            He ran to the right, leaping to evade several small rolling machines meant to trip him as he moved.  There was a noise behind him, as a torrent of water began to flow from one wall.  Iceman paused and focused on the tide until it was frozen in place.

            He completed several more maneuvers, utilizing his physical agility as much as his ice powers to escape the simulated attacks.  Bobby thought back on previous sessions and recognized how quickly he had improved.

            A giant machine on wheels materialized before him, and he stopped it with a wall of ice before it had barely touched the ground.  

            Bobby glanced quickly at the darkened windows and grinned, knowing Rogue was behind one of them.  All the months they had been dating and he still loved to impress her.

            Suddenly, another mechanical arm spun towards him.  Bobby ducked in surprise as a plume of fire grazed past him.  He stumbled, breathing heavily, and got quickly to his feet as the arm came around for a second pass.

            Bobby felt a quiet panic rising in his chest.  

            _Fire..._ he thought, _Damn it, it had to be fire..._

            Out of all the elements the Danger Room had exposed him to, fire had always been the most difficult for him.  He figured that was why Cyclops and Storm were always including it in his training, but inwardly he wished they had skipped this part today.

            As the machine swung toward him, Bobby focused his power on the mechanical arm, instead of the fire itself.  Layers of ice formed quickly over the joints and the machine screamed in protest as it was frozen to a stop.  The fire stopped short of where Bobby stood.  The machine groaned and then fell still.

            He could feel the heat all around him and took a few steps backward.  He was breathing quickly, and realized all the other machines had halted also.  Bobby waited, wondering if the simulation was ending, when the arm wielding the fire lurched forward.

            Bobby jumped back quickly, as the heat from the torch melted his defense.  The arm jerked forward again and Bobby reached out to fortify the shell of ice.

            The flame grew filling the room with suffocating heat and rendering Bobby's trail of ice useless, the frozen stream melting before it found its mark.

            Bobby turned his face away from the fire, and instead of attempting to freeze the machine again, he quickly created a shell of ice around himself.  The fire made the ice glow red as it passed and Bobby used all of his strength to keep the protective shield intact.

            Suddenly, the chamber fell silent, and the lights outside of the shell of ice grew brighter.  Bobby blinked and exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding.

            A voice echoed in the Danger Room, though it was muffled by the ice surrounding him.  

            "Simulation ended..." Storm's voice spoke loudly, and then she added, "Good job, Bobby."

            From inside his shield, Bobby stood for a moment and clenched his fists in anger.  Why did they have to end it with the fire, after he had been doing so well?  Especially when so many others were watching.

            Bobby glanced up at the windows and the ice around him shattered.  Again, he was alone in an empty chamber, all traces of the mechanical attackers were gone.

            From one window, Bobby could now see Rogue, who smiled down at him, one gloved hand pressed against the glass.  Her presence held more warmth for him than anything, and his icy anger faded away.  

Bobby sighed and smiled back, knowing he was not the only one who still needed to learn more about their powers.  He glanced around the training room one more time and realized he could not wait to begin the exercise again.  There were no limits to what he could do in this room, and he hope to push his powers as far as they could go.

***

            The observation room was silent as the lights returned to normal.  Xavier turned his chair to once again face the others.

            "Remarkable...just remarkable..." Henry McCoy was muttering to himself.  He had a strangely pleased grin on his face as he continued to scribble in his notebook.

            "An excellent demonstration, Professor," he continued, glancing quickly at Xavier, "And you say the room can adapt to each mutant's specific gifts?  Yes, quiet remarkable..."           

Xavier nodded appreciatively to the doctor.  Seeing the Danger Room in action for the first time was typically an intimidating experience and Henry reaction was refreshing.

"Does anyone have any questions before we continue?" Xavier asked, looking around the room.

"A few, Professor, a few," Henry said quickly, tapping his pen against the paper a moment before continuing.  His brow was furrowed in thought as he scanned his notes, and it was obvious he had more than a few questions in mind.

The rear door to the room opened and Bobby entered, looking a little embarrassed as the others met him with a quiet approval.  He was drying his wet hair with a small towel and his uniform was still damp from the water of melting ice 

"What type of safety precautions are programmed into those machines?" Henry asked, looking up over his glasses and waggling his pen in an almost scolding fashion, "Many of those maneuvers seemed quiet difficult, and while young Mr. Drake seemed to handle them adeptly, there must be fail safes in place to ensure the safety of the trainees..."

Cyclops and Storm exchanged amused grins.  Henry said this in more of a matter-of-fact tone rather than a question.  He was their head physician now and, despite how eager he was to explore the benefits of the Danger Room, he left no doubt that the well being of his patients was his main priority.

"Indeed," Xavier said, "The computer monitors many attributes of the trainee when inside the Room.  Heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure, all are continually checked to ensure that the person using the room is physically able to meet the demands of any simulation.  If a simulation becomes unsafe for the trainee, the computer is equipped with manual and automatic 'fail safes' that will end a session before any harm is done to the participant."

Henry was nodding and scribbling again, and the Professor took the moment to glance around the room at the other 'new trainees.'  His expression became quiet stern, and his voice sounded a bit more commanding.

"And, of course," he continued, "No one is ever to use the Danger Room alone, without at least one other trained person monitoring them from this room.  As of right now, those 'trained' people include Storm, Cyclops or myself.  I must insist that those just learning these systems are quiet clear of the dangers of attempting use of this training facility without proper supervision."

A chuckle broke up the somber atmosphere created by the Professor's firm words.

"Don't want anyone being _flambéed _in there, _oui_?" Gambit said with a wry grin.

Cyclops and Storm gave him disapproving frowns, but Xavier smiled with amusement.  Despite the man's casual attitude, the Professor knew Mr. LeBeau was not demeaning the point.  Bobby, however, gave the man a quick glare, obviously not finding amusement in his comment.

"No, indeed not," Xavier replied, and then glanced to the left, "Yes, Peter?"

Peter was raising his hand, nearly forgetting he was not in class.  He lowered it quickly before speaking.

"When can we try it, Professor?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager.  

"We can begin scheduling sessions after classes next week," the Professor answered, "Scott, Storm and I will be leaving for Arizona in the morning so the Danger Room will remain disabled until we return."

Peter looked slightly disappointed but agreed.  Henry glanced up over his glasses again at the young man with a grin.

"And don't think I won't be keeping an eye on things down here while they're gone," he said, waggling his pen again.

He leveled it at Peter, his attempt to be serious broken up by the joking twinkle in his eyes.

"No breaking in..."

He moved the pointing pen to Kurt, who straightened his back and grinned.

"No teleporting..."

He then pointed at Gambit, who had a bemused frown.

"No...um...gambling...there are children around."

            Gambit laughed, enjoying the doctor's strange sense of humor, and gave his cards a quick shuffle, before holding his hands up defensively.

            "Whatever you say, _mon__ ami_."

            Henry nodded, "Hmpf...good."

            He closed his binder firmly and stood up, signaling the end of the 'tour.'

Xavier's expression remained neutral, but inwardly he was pleased that all of their new guests seemed to be getting along well.  This made him even more sure that he would be taking the over night trip west with Storm and Cyclops.  Between Rogue, Bobby, Kurt, and now their new doctor, he felt the mansion would be in good hands.

            "Well," he said, "Thank you all for your attention.  We will meet again on Monday to discuss a training schedule."

            That said, the group adjourned, heading out into the main lower hall towards the elevators.


	8. Chapter Seven: Mary Reflects

Author's note:  Don't let the name fool you.  The character of Mary will be NO "Mary-Sue."  (Ahh!  Back, Mary Sue, back!)  She's actually not my own character, but a cross over from the movie trilogy "The Prophecy."  I hope to pull in other cross over characters in other books too (just to make this little alternate universe as complicated as possible).  Thanks again for reviews!  

Chapter Seven:

            The night wind was cool as Mary Sloane drove back from town towards the small house she and her grandmother called home.  She had the windows of her jeep down and the headlights cut through the dark land as she drove, the only beacons she had to ensure that she was still on the highway.  As she reached the top of one hill, she could make out the far off mountains by their dark silhouettes against the clear starry sky.

            The world around her was very quiet, very peaceful, and a small smiled touched her face as she drove on.  Even without the lights from her car, she could have navigated her way home without a second thought.  She had lived in this valley her entire life and knew every hill and turn as if they were apart of herself.

            After she pulled onto the bare stretch of ground of her driveway, Mary put the car in park and shut off the engine.  She knew her grandmother would be waiting for her, despite the late hour, and she hesitated before going into the house.

            Tomorrow was the day her grandmother had arranged to have the people from Xavier's School of the Gifted meet them, and Mary suddenly felt a strange uncertainty about their expected guests.  They had told her grandmother that only two of the teachers would be flying out to Arizona, but she had known since the first phone call that there would be three on that flight.

            _Charles woke up_, she heard the vague cognition echoing in her mind and she sighed.  She had heard those words nearly eight months ago, and out of everything she had felt that day, that had made the least sense to her...at least, until she learned about Charles Xavier and his school.

            But, could he be the same person that her vision had spoken of?  She could not say for certain...but her instincts said it was.

            If this Charles was the same man, then it was very possible that he was responsible for nearly killing millions (if not billions) of people.  The idea of someone that powerful disturbed her a little.  One man with the power to touch every mind on earth...and destroy them all with only a thought...what kind of burden to carry, what kind of weapon to possess.

            She had done some research online about Xavier's School for the Gifted, but she found very little clear information about their work with mutants.  The school itself did not have its own homepage, so all her sources were secondary.  She could learn even less about the faculty and Xavier himself.  

            She supposed that made sense, however, considering the country's general opinions about mutants.  It did not always pay to advertise and she was sure they would not be short of applicants considering how many more mutants had been coming forward recently.  It was a shame that anti-mutant groups still vastly outnumbered groups that supported mutants.

            _Mutants_, she thought the word with some relief.  She had never been able to define herself and her gifts by any concrete terms.  The elders did not even have a name for what she could do or what had occurred in her life.  The experiences she had as a child were almost beyond explanation, and the few people who had witnessed them were quickly disappearing.

            All she could remember herself was that the angels had come to her, given her something to hide because she was special, until the elders were able to send what she had been given back where it belonged.

            God, she wished she could remember more than that.  Afterwards, the elders and her grandmother refused to speak about what had happened, saying it would bring the terror back to their people, so she could not get any more information from them.  Anyone else who had been there had either moved away...or was dead.

            Mary sighed again and leaned her head back against the driver's seat, her mind reeling with hundreds of visions and memories.  She hoped, if anything, the people from Xavier's School would be able to help her sort out all those thoughts.  Maybe if she could somehow remember, just a little bit of what had happened in those few days when she was ten, she could learn how to better manage her 'gifts.'

            After another moment, she opened the door to her jeep and stepped out, starting the short trek up to her house.  Through the dark, she could see the small light from her grandmother's room and she grinned.  

            In the face of all her doubts and fears, that one light eased her more than anything else in the world.  No matter what happened or where she may go, she knew there was always one person she could always come home to.  

            Mary took the last few steps to the front door, past two small stretches of desert flowers which her grandmother tended.  She was still smiling as she entered the house and called to her grandmother in a cheerful whisper.

            "Nana…I'm home."

            She shut the door to against the night, and left her troubles for the morning.

***

            The lights coming from the small house in the Arizona desert clicked out shortly after Mary's return home and the land became quiet and still.

            The cool night wind continued to blow across the hills, and past the small garden at the front steps.

            Though no one would ever notice, the small flowering plants closest to where Mary stepped had bloomed, despite the chilly March air, as if some passing force had made them think it was already spring.


	9. Chapter Eight: Traveling Thoughts

Chapter Eight:

            As the X-Jet soared quickly west over the vast plains of the mid-west, Professor Charles Xavier sat in silent thought, watching the passing clouds with vague interest.  His mind was currently very preoccupied, mainly with questions about their new candidate, and on the list which Scott had given him from Cerebro the previous evening.

            Following the training demonstration, Bobby had completed compiling the computer's latest information and had printed a list containing the names and suspected abilities of many mutants that Cerebro had located during Xavier's last session in the machine.  The results had been lengthy, but not entirely unexpected.  Many of the names listed had been individuals whom Charles had sensed previously, although, the number of new mutants had increased significantly.  

            And, as always, there were several very obvious omissions from the list.

            _Erik, Charles thought, a frustrated frown lingering on his face, __Where are you now, old friend?  Eight months and I have only caught fleeting glimpses of your Brotherhood and not a single hint of you.  Are you still recovering from your incarceration with Stryker, or are you merely biding your time, building your strength, recruiting more lost and angry mutants to your cause?_

            Xavier sighed quietly, and massaged one temple with his finger tips.  With all the concerns he had about the world stage today, Magneto's silence worried him most of all.  

            It had taken Erik Lensherr years to organize his first major attack on humanity at Liberty Island, but that had been when he was first creating what was now called the "Brotherhood of Mutants."  His followers had been few, but fierce, and Xavier was certain Magneto's Brotherhood had not been idle during these changing and difficult months.

            However, it had proven impossible to guess how many others might now follow Magneto, despite the Professor's monitoring of mutants around the globe.  The only two he could be certain of was Mystique…and John Allerdyce.

            Xavier knew he _could look deeper, he __could focus harder on those mental signatures he may recognize…but every time he tried, the memories of his experiences from Alkalai Lake kept him from opening his mind to such a degree again._

            So for now, as frustrating as it was, Xavier knew he had no choice but to wait and see where Erik and his Brothers would appear next.  The only thing Xavier and his X-Men could do was try to reach as many other mutants as possible, to lead them to answers beyond violence and revenge.

            Charles raised his eyes and stared out of the large front windows of the jet.  He did his best to clear his mind of all else except their task at hand.  They were flying now to Arizona, to meet and do what they could to help another mutant in need.  It was their duty, _his responsibility to guide others like himself through this confusing world, and keep them on the path of hope, instead of revenge and hate._

            "How are we doing on time, Scott?" the Professor asked in an even and controlled voice.

            Scott glanced backwards at the Professor through his ruby colored glasses.  He and Storm were both in plain clothes, looking very casual next to the X-Jet's large navigation panels.

            "We're crossing out of Kansas now," Scott replied, "We're a little more than halfway there.  Considering the time zone difference, we should be within landing distance by about ten o'clock Arizona time."

            "Good," Xavier replied quickly.

            "Any new thoughts on the young lady's abilities?" Storm asked, curiously.

            Xavier shook his head, "I'm afraid not.  We'll just have to wait and see when we meet her."

            Scott frowned slightly, "Do you think we should have let them know to expect another guest?  They only know that me and Storm are coming…"

            "Somehow," Xavier said, "I think she's been expecting all of us for a long time."


	10. Chapter Nine: Last Trip to Town

Chapter Nine:

            Mary Sloane drove into town early the next morning, wanting to complete all of her errands of the day so that the afternoon could be solely for her guests.

            All morning her grandmother had been fussing about the house, cleaning and re-cleaning, cooking and baking, and preparing for the day.  They had visitors so rarely, and Mary was glad to see her aging Nana slightly energized by her hosting duties.  She had a whole list ready for Mary when she woke, and had pestered her the whole way out the door about coming back on time.  Mary just smiled with amusement (although very subtle and respectful amusement), and promised again and again not to be late.

            The road into town was empty as she drove, and she did not meet another car until she crossed onto Main Street.  The air was dry and dusty, every building seemed to be covered by a fine layer of soil.  The shops and homes were old, many looking sorely in need of renovation.  The few people who walked along past looked tired and worn, though most gave Mary a friendly wave a she drove by.

            A decade ago, it had been a small, but thriving community, but over the years since then, the town just seemed to be drifting to sleep.  There had been no major change to the area, no big railway or factory that closed.  The people just seemed to be fading, moving onto somewhere else.  Most of the younger families had moved away, and the older residents just seemed to be waiting out time until they passed away.  

            Though no one ever spoke of it, it had dawned on Mary about a year before that she was the youngest resident of this valley.  The school which she had attended her whole life had closed shortly after she graduated, so any family with children had chosen to leave.  Most of her friends had gone off to college or moved to the city, finding no possibility of a future here.  She had written to them for a while, but even those ties had grown cold.

            Mary pulled up to one curb next to a small general store.  As she entered, the man behind the counter smiled up as her over his wire glasses.

            "Well, good morning, Mary," he said with a slight wheeze, "What brings you down so early?"

            "Hi, Mr. Duchak," she said, "Just getting some things for my grandmother…"

            "Just like always..." another voice chimed in.  An old woman was hobbling her way carefully up the last aisle, chuckling loudly as she approached.  She was grasping a basket by one hand, steadying herself with a cane in the other.  Even though the basket was still relatively empty, it was obvious that she was struggling.  Mary walked over to her and helped her maneuver the burden to the counter.

            "Oh, thank you, dear," she said, "Now, that's enough, I don't want to be a bother…"

            "It's no trouble, Mrs. Sauter."

            "Aw, you were always a good girl," the old woman replied, "Your Nana's pride..."

            "Besides her roses, you mean," Mary said with a grin, and the old woman cackled again.

            Mr. Duchak began ringing up Mrs. Sauter's purchases, "How's her hip been feelin', Mary?"

            "Not too bad," she replied as she shopped, "She's actually pretty active this morning."

            "Glad to hear," Duchak said, "Hate to think of Lily stuck inside all day."

            "You're absolutely right, Melvin," Mrs. Sauter said, stressing each word strongly, "Why your old nana was a firecracker in her youth..."

            "Never anyone more active in the church than your Nana, Mary," Duchak added.

            "And she still is," Mrs. Sauter corrected him, "Although that didn't keep her entirely out of trouble, did it?  Ha.  Did I ever tell you about the time…"

            Mary smiled as the pair talked on.  She had heard the stories a thousand times but somehow they never got old.  Listening to the people around her had always been important to her, watching the life twinkle in their eyes as they reminisced on better times and happier…

            Suddenly, Mary's hands began to shake.  She had been gathering some cans of vegetables and they tumbled from her grasp.  The world around her was getting dark, spinning away, and a cold panic filled her chest.

            The voices around her were muffled, but she could hear their concern growing.

            _Not here, she thought desperately, __Not now…oh, God, they'll see…they think it's all in the past…they'll see…_

            But all those thoughts were overwhelmed as a vision ripped through her mind.

            _Water…she saw water…_

_                                                                                    Fire…there's fire…_

_            The earth…_

_                                                                                    The air…_

_                                                All being torn apart…_

_                                                All spinning away…_

_                                                The center has fallen…_

_                                                The balance is gone…_

_                                                All the roses are dying…_

            Mary gasped and sat up, looking suddenly into the eyes of not two, but three people.

            Mr. Duchak and Mrs. Sauter were hovering over her with fearful, worried expressions.

            The third person was Eddie Chalmers.  If she was the youngest in town, he was the second youngest.

            _Sheriff Chalmers, she thought as her mind was able to focus on the present again, _He's the sheriff now…__

            "…even though you used to try to steal my lunch money," Mary finished her thought in a hazy voice.

            Sheriff Edwin Chalmers smiled down at her with undisguised relief.  Duchak had called him first when Mary collapsed.  They would have never called an ambulance, considering the only hospital is over forty miles away.

            "Hey, kid," he said, "Old folks here said you took a spill.  I guess they didn't lie."

            Mrs. Sauter smacked the Sheriff comically on the head.

            "Edwin Chalmers!" she said flabbergasted, "Well, I never!  To say we would fib about something like that."

            Eddie rubbed the back of his head, with a grin.  Mary laughed, jolted back into reality and, with Eddie's help, stood up slowly.  Her mind was still reeling a little from the vision, but her hands and legs had stopped shaking.

            "I'm just kidding, Aunt Celie," he said, and seeing the woman's very _unamused_ glare, "I'm sorry.  How you feeling, Mary?"

            Mary shook her head, "I'm fine, I'm fine…just, felt a little faint, that's all."

            "That's not the first time.  Do you want to sit a moment, dear?" Mrs. Sauter asked, still shooting angry glances at her nephew, "Those spells come on you so quickly…"

            "No, thank you…" she replied, and noticing the identical doubtful expressions on Eddie and Mrs. Sauter's faces, she smiled, "I'm fine…really…"

            "Ok," Eddie said finally, "We'll take your word for it.  Everyone knows you don't lie, either."

            He smirked jokingly, as his aunt slapped him again on the upper arm.

            "Will you be ok to drive home?" Eddie asked, with genuine concern.

            Mary nodded, trying to keep the panic out of her face, "Yeah, I'll just take it slow."

            "Do you want me to call your grandmother?" he asked.

            "No, don't do that," Mary replied, a little quicker than she had intended.  Eddie cast her another doubtful glance but nodded.

            "Ok," he said, and then forced a bright smiled onto his features.  He turned to his aunt and lifted her grocery bags from the counter.

            "Well, if everything's under control here," he said, "How 'bout you let a handsome law man walk you home, Lady Celie."

            "Oh, posh with the lady talk.  And, what's this about you trying to steal Mary's lunch money…" she said, and the pair said their farewells before leaving.

            Mary sighed, and looked over at Mr. Duchak.  The old man was regarding her with an intense frown.

            "I'm fine, Mr. Duchak," she said again, "Please don't make a big deal…"

            "What did you see?" he asked abruptly.

            Mary stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to answer.

            "What do you…" she began.

            "What did you see?" he repeated, a little more forcefully that before.

            Mary looked away from him, and began to gather the fallen cans of vegetables.

            "I don't know what you mean," she said quickly.

            When she turned back to him, Duchak was still frowning, his arms folded across his thin chest.  The look on his face made her uncomfortable, as if he was accusing her of something.

            "I _just felt a little faint," she said, trying to sound convincing, "That's all."_

            The man kept silent, and rung up her purchases slowly.  After several very awkward minutes, Mary sighed angrily.

            "Look, what do you want me to say?" she asked him, "Do you want me to tell you that I'm still having visions?  Is that what you want?  Why does it matter anyway, the elders never listen to anything I have to say…"

            "Only because you don't tell them everything," he finally said, without looking at her.

            "What else do they want to hear?" she asked, "They've known about my visions for years, and they never give me any reason or explanation of them.  They won't tell me a thing about what happened in the desert ten years ago…"

            "Don't talk about that," Duchak said quickly, glancing up at her darkly.

            "See?" Mary said with growing agitation, "How am I supposed to understand this if no one will help me?"

            "No one _can help you, child," he said._

            "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, and grabbed her bags, "Oh, wait, you can't tell me that either."

            Mary paid for her groceries and turned around quickly.

            "What did you see, Mary?" Duchak asked one more time.

            Mary looked back, "I saw Eddie Chalmers get clocked by his old auntie…that's what I saw.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get home…"

            "Who's coming to visit you today?" the old man asked and Mary froze.  Her grandmother said she did not tell anyone about the people from Xavier's school coming.  No one else besides Mary knew…

            "How did you…" she asked, and then drew herself up, "It doesn't matter…"

            "You're not who you think…" Duchak said softly.  Mary paused a moment, and then frowned without her earlier ire.

            "Who am I then?" she said, finally asking the question that had plagued her for her entire life.

            Duchak shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it slowly.  Mary suddenly thought the man's eyes looked more than aged, they looked haunted.

            In the brief interlude of their conversation, the soft roar of a passing jet filled the air.  They both looked up, out at the sky and Duchak spoke one last time.

            "You need to find that out for yourself, child," he said, giving her a strained, but hopeful smile, "Now, off with you…I think your visitors are near."

            Mary stared with open confusion at the man for one more moment and then headed quickly out the door toward her jeep.  Duchak walked slowly over to the front store window and watched her drive away.

            He glanced one more time up to the sky and sighed.

            _And I hope, for your sake, you never find out, he thought, taking one long drag from his cigarette before crushing it under the tip of his shoe._


	11. Chapter Ten: Meeting the XMen

Chapter Ten:

            As Mary pulled into her driveway, she gaped at what was sitting in the field behind her house.  In the time it had taken her to drive back from town, a small black jet had landed less than five hundred feet from her front door.

            _Oh, Christ, that's subtle, she thought cynically, __As if people around here don't think I'm weird enough…_

            Shaking her head, Mary walked up the short path to her house and paused before opening the front door.

            She was late…her Nana was going to be furious…

            Mary stepped through the door and closed it quietly.

            "We're in here," her grandmother's voice called.

            When she entered the kitchen, Mary smiled apologetically at the three strangers.

            "Sorry," she said, "I was in town…I didn't expect you here already…"

            "That's quite alright," the first man said, "You must be Mary."

            She nodded, and glanced around at their guests.  The younger man and woman were silent, though smiling pleasantly at her.  The older gentleman sat in a motorized wheel chair, which he turned to face her.

            _This looks familiar, Mary thought.  It was just as she expected._

            "Let me introduce myself," he continued, "My name is Charles Xavier and these are two of my colleagues, Scott Summers and Ororo Monroe."

            Mary moved to sit next to her grandmother, who patted her hand reassuringly, as Xavier spoke.  Mary was trying to watch him closely, without being too obvious about it.  Something like déjà vu was washing through her as she looked on the Professor and she wrung her hands nervously in her lap.

            "She was getting me a few things from town," Nana explained, "Mary has been looking forward to meeting you for some time..."

            She gave Mary a significant glance, and Mary fought the urge to cringe.  She hated when Nana tried to explain things for her to others.

            "Indeed," Xavier said, "I'm glad you contacted us, Mrs. Sloane.  I hope we will be able to help you with any questions you might have."

            "Questions?" Mary said quickly, feeling suddenly suspicious.  She was not sure she was ready to ask these complete strangers her inner most questions.  

            Xavier nodded, "In these difficult times, a life for a mutant can be very confusing."

            "Oh, for mutants," she replied, and then added quietly, "Right, mutants…"

            She had been having visions of this moment for so long, she should have known what was to be said word for word.  Too bad she could never remember the details of visions for long or else she would have taken some notes, almost like cheating on an important test.

            "Our goal is to support mutants in the development of their gifts," Ororo Monroe said with a confident smile, though inwardly she was examining the girl closely.  Mary glanced at her and nodded.  The woman looked exactly like from Mary's memory, dark skin, white hair, caring but haunted eyes…

            "Yeah, well, I've got some of those, I guess," Mary said with a small grin, trying to sound more sure of what she wanted to say.

            "But," Scott Summers added, "Before we get into that, why don't you tell us more about yourself?"

            Mary raised her eyebrows curiously, and shrugged.

            "Um…not much to tell really," she said, "I was born in this valley, lived here with my parents until they passed away and then Nana raised me.  I went to school, graduated, and now I work during the week at the local church and hall in town or with the university research group on the Reservation."

            "Research group?" the Professor said with approval, "What sort of research?"

            "Archaeological, mostly," she said, "Studying ancient cultures.  My father was kind of an expert of the history of this area so I knew a lot already when they hired me."

            "Are you a student there yourself?" Ororo asked.

            Mary shook her head, "No, not an _enrolled_ student, but they took me on as a research assistant anyway.  I kind of have a knack for finding things in the field…"

            Xavier nodded, "It must be fascinating work…"

            "Yeah, it's ok," she said, "What kinds of things do you study at your school?"

            Xavier smiled, looking very pleased at Mary's interest in their work.  He hoped that was a good sign of her positive opinion of them.  Many young mutants were hostile to being labeled by being involved with a mutant organization.

            "All basic academics," Xavier said, "Our students range in ages from elementary to secondary school.  We try to give each a wide range of studies to choose from.  Scott teaches mathematics and mechanics and Storm teaches history and English…"

            "Storm?" Mary asked with a frown.  

            Xavier paused a moment before continuing, realizing his accidental slip, and exchanged quick glances with the others.  He met Mary's gaze again and smiled apologetically.

            "Ms. Monroe is also known by the name of Storm," Xavier explained, and Mary regarded him questioningly.

            "Why is that?" she asked, though she had an idea already.

            Storm smiled, "I call myself that in regards to my powers.  I have the ability to manipulate the weather."

            Mary's eyes widened slightly, "Manipulate it how?"

            Storm exchanged another glance with the Professor.  This was the part they always expected.

            "Time for a demonstration?" she asked with a small smile.  Xavier nodded and glanced back to Mary and her grandmother.

            "You're not the only one with gifts…" he said, "Let us show you…"


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Toughest Choice is t...

Chapter Eleven:

            Mary escorted their guests outside and watched them closely.  She wished she was able to remember something about this, maybe then she would not have been terrified about what they were about to show her.

            The woman called Storm stepped away from the group and raised her hands above her head.

            With quiet wonder, Mary watched as clouds began to gather in the clear morning sky.  Something in her felt the earth respond as the woman began to create rain clouds over the desert.  

            Above the small jet, the clouds broke and a small patch of rain began to fall.  Small streaks of lightning ran across the sky, and Mary felt the wind sigh as it blew past her ears.  The entirely unnatural occurrence did not feel unnatural to her and the dry ground took in the water greedily as it fell.

            Mary glanced over at Storm, and suddenly felt unnerved.  The woman's eyes had lost all their color and were glowing with a strange white light.  She took a nervous step backwards, transfixed on the woman's form against the dark clouds.  

            "Miss Sloane?" a concerned voice made her jump and she glanced around quickly.  

            The rain died away, and the sun shone brightly once again.

            The Professor was next to her and she glanced down at him.

            "Sorry," Mary said, "Just…It just…It was surprising.  I had no idea mutants could do things like that."

            "That and more," Scott said with a reassuring grin, "Every one is unique."

            "Oh," Mary said, then added defensively, "And you think you can help me learn about my gifts…"

            "Yes, we do," Xavier said, "If you would like us to."

            Mary sighed, and folded her arms.  She slowly walked a few steps away from her guests and looked across the land towards the mountains.  She was weighing her next words carefully, frustrated by what she knew these people wanted to ask.  

They could be as tactful as they wanted.  Her visions always ended the same way...

            A few moments passed before she could speak again.

            "You..." she began, and then sighed and turned to face them, "You...want me to go back with you."

            Xavier smiled knowingly, "That is one option, yes.  You are, of course, always free to simply stay in contact with us by phone or e-mail.  Most mutants we contact choose to stay at their homes, knowing they have the opportunity to come to the school if they feel their powers are becoming unmanageable..."

            "Yes, but you want _me_ to go back with you _now_, right?" she asked firmly, but with growing agitation, "That's why _you_ came out here, Professor, isn't it?"

            "We simply came to you because you asked," Xavier said calmly, "To give you any assistance we can..."

            Mary shook her head, "That's not what I mean.  I mean, you, yourself, Professor.  _You_ came out here specifically because you think I should come to your school."

            "Why do you say that?" he asked.

            Mary sighed, "You know why.  You know cause Nana explained to you what's been happening to me.  What's _always_ happened to me..."

            She glanced around at the patient faces watching her, and finally settled again on the Professor.  His gaze never wavered, as he waited for her to put her own mutation in her own words.

            "I see things," she said, "Things in the past, things in the future...things that are happening right now.  The Elders call them 'visions' but the feelings I get are more than that.  I just…_know_ things and I _don't know why._  What people are doing, what they feel, where they're going.  Sometimes I'll be talking to someone and realize I already had the conversation because I 'saw' it weeks before.  Then I get frustrated...like I am now...because I know you wanted to ask me to come back to your school from the moment you found me but you're all too polite to just say it.  Now I have to wait through a conversation I've already had to finally answer a question _I don't have_ an answer for."

            Mary took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  She had not meant to just spill everything out like that.  Especially on people who are just trying to do some good in the world.

            "But," she finally said, opening her eyes again, "I knew you decided to join Mr. Summers and Ms. Monroe because, for whatever reason, you think I should come back."

            Xavier stared at the girl for a moment, a curious frown creasing his brow.

            "The vision changed," she continued, "For weeks, I've been seeing the two of you.  Same old routine, you visit, you ask questions, you head home.  But two days ago, the vision changed.  Suddenly, there were three, and I was going to have to make a decision."

            Mary trembled as she spoke, but not from another wave of her gift.  Just weeks worth of tension flowing out of her.  Now, for her own big question...

            "I want to know, before I do decide..." she said, and then continued slowly, "Is it because you think I'm dangerous?  Is that why you want me to go?"

            Her face grew stony, "People here think I am.  The Elders, they've seen things but they won't tell me.  I know you're a psychic, Professor Xavier, I know you can see things too.  So tell me..._am I dangerous?_"

            A sudden anxiety (which Xavier felt was closer to fear) filled Mary's eyes. 

            _So that's why she was so worried to meet us_, the Professor thought, _She thinks we're here to cart her off to some institute for unstable mutants.  She thinks I've seen something in her that might be a threat to others._

            Xavier smiled with honest relief and shook his head.

            "No, I don't think you are," he replied, watching the girl blink with surprise, "You are right, however, that I chose to come myself because I would like you to return to the school with us.  Your gift seems very strong, Mary...these 'visions' that you have, something like precognition.  Your grandmother told us they've become more difficult for you to control recently, and we would like to help you learn to manage them without suffering the overwhelming effects she described."

            He noticed the girl shifting uncomfortably, but Xavier's remained steadfast and confident.

            "I may have concerns about your own safety, but I don't think you are a danger to anyone else," he said, and then added with amusement, "Except lottery officials, perhaps..."

            Mary laughed then, a quiet and nervous sound, but her own relief at Xavier's words was obvious.  She looked around at her guests and smiled.

            "Thank you," she said, "And don't worry about those lottery guys...Nana would kill me if she caught me cheating like that."

            Mary's face grew dark then, and she glanced back to the house where she had lived her entire life.

            "And I appreciate the offer, Professor," she said, and then met his eyes again, "But I can't.  I can't leave my grandmother right now.  She hurt her leg last year and it's tough for her to get around.  She's...she's not well.  I'm...I'm sorry..."

            Mary turned quickly and walked off towards the house, leaving her guests behind.  Scott took a step forward, but Xavier halted him with one hand and shook his head.

"Give her a moment...It must be her decision."

Mary walked away guiltily, staring at the ground as she moved.

She knew it was disrespectful to just turn ones back on someone, but she also knew this was the only chance she would have to stay.  She did not want to leave home, she had never been anywhere else, and part of her was terrified of being anywhere else but here.

            Thoughts and voices rose in her mind, demanding she stop and go back.  This is not the way it was supposed to go.  She was meant to move on from this place.  Each step towards the house was a struggle with herself, but Mary fought against those urges with thoughts of her grandmother, thoughts of her responsibilities to her family.

            Mary reached the front door and stepped through.  She nearly fell on her face as she tripped on something lying just inside the house.  It was soft, but seemed very heavy.

            She glanced down...and with wide eyes noticed two suitcases blocking her way.  Mary gaped in surprise and glanced up as her Nana walked from the back bedrooms with an armload of clothes.  Mary could tell that the older woman had been crying, but now Nana's eyes were dry and her jaw set in her task.

            "Nana," Mary said, "What are you doing?"

            "Packing your things," she said simply, looking at Mary as if that had been a very silly question.

            "Nana...how did..." Mary said with a frown, "No...please, stop.  I'm not going anywhere..."

            "Of course you are," Nana replied, "You always do…now, go get what you need..."

            "No," Mary nearly shouted, "No, I'm won't.  _I can't._"

            Nana put her hands on her hips, "And why not?"

            "I won't just leave you here," Mary replied, "Nana, you..."

            "_Your Nana..._" the older woman began, "...is a grown woman who can take care of herself."

            Nana walked up to Mary and stared up at her, waving one finger scoldingly.  The gesture was almost comical though Mary would never have laughed.

            "You think you are the only one who knows things," she began, "Or do you forget who raised you all these years?  Hmm?  I know things.  I know more about you than anyone else, Mary-Rose.  I know why you are afraid.  Your mama...she bring you here to us because she think we can help you, because she couldn't find help in her own church.  She always believed the answers would come to you in time.  But, there's nothing else you can learn here.  The Elders have been silent for too long and they are too old to change their ways.  They _fear_ you, my Rose.  And that is their weakness.  But, those people, out there, they don't have that fear."

            Nana put a hand to Mary's cheek, which was now damp with tears of her own.

            "When your mama found me and your papa, we knew the child she carried was blessed...was gifted.  You have the light that shines in the darkest places, though you can't see it yet.  Ten years ago, that light was lost...now you must find it again, however difficult the journey will be."

            Mary collapsed into the old woman's arms and wept.  Her tears were bitter in her throat.  It was not fair.  Why should she have to leave everything she knows?  Why do the answers always need to be found so far away?

            "I...I don't...understand..." she said through her sobs and her Nana stroked her hair lovingly.

            "You will, My Rose," she said with a shining smiled, "You will..."


	13. Chapter Twelve: Interlude

INTERLUDE:

            Seven hundred miles north of the arid land of Arizona, a man climbed quickly up a wooded mountainside in the vast forests of Colorado.  He knew he was not very far from Boulder, yet he was far enough from civilization to safely call the area the 'middle of nowhere.'  The trees were old and closely packed together, allowing only scattered beams of daylight escape down between their branches.

            One would certainly not expect to find a road cutting through the trees, and most people would have never noticed the two shallow groves tread long ago by unknown tires, now hidden by decades' worth of dense underbrush.  

            Logan breathed deeply as he walked forward, following the two tracks unerringly down their winding path.  Whom ever had once used this 'road' had been careful to not disturb the existing plant life, making it much more difficult to follow as it twisted left and right among the large trees.  A straight road cutting through the forest would have been far too conspicuous to any passing campers or park rangers.

            Shifting his large duffle bag slightly, Logan trudged upwards, following not only the old tire tracks, but the scent of old gasoline and oil left by the vehicles that once traveled there.  He had not idea where it would lead him, but he knew it was somewhere that had never meant to be found.

            It was late morning, nearly noon, and the sounds of life around her were active and awake, despite the late winter cold.  Over the past few days of his trek, it had snowed only lightly and he hoped his luck with the weather would continue until this evening.  He had a feeling he would find what he was looking for very soon.

            After another hour or so, the clearing around the tracks became wider and he could feel old gravel crunching underneath his boots.  The tall trees became sparser, and Logan finally stepped out into a large clearing.

            From the air, the space would have simply looked like an old camp ground, abandoned and left to disappear again into the woods.  Logan knew by experience, however, that the look of a place could be deceiving.

            Cautiously, Logan moved toward an old metal building that stood roughly in the center of the clearing.  The dull gray of the outer walls were aged and stained with rust.  On the left side, a door blew slowly back and forth, held ajar by two weakening hinges.  

            He walked quickly and quietly around and peered inside.  There were no windows and the only light shone in from the open door.  Logan dropped his duffle bag roughly to the ground and dug through to find a large flashlight.  

            As he stepped into the dark room, his light cut through the gloom harshly, shining dully off the metallic walls.  The room was bare and as weathered as the outside, and completely empty.  After exploring for a few moments, Logan found a cracked hatchway in the floor.  It was about four-feet-square and closed flush with the ground.  The hatch screamed in protest as he yanked up on the handle, and the noise reverberated painfully in his ears.

            Logan shoved the hatch open and coughed as twenty years worth of dust filled the air.  He squinted and shone the light down the hole.  There was a staircase, going down at least two stories from where he stood.

            He descended them slowly, taking each step with care.  Despite the age of the place, it had obviously been maintained with great care before being abandoned.  The walls were even and squared, the stairs lined with a non-slip covering.  The remains of security cameras and fire alarms hung loosely from the ceiling, all covered with a heavy layer of dust.

            When he reached the final step, Logan walked forward into a long, narrow hallway, which grew wider as he moved on.  After a couple hundred feet, he reached an old security door made of steel and glass.  The two halves of the door had been wrenched open, leaving several of the glass panels shattered and the inner beams bent.

            Logan frowned deeply as he examined the remnants, and looked around carefully.  Whatever had happened to the door had happened recently.  The broken glass and frame had been shaken free of the years of dust that covered everything else.  Logan sniffed the air, but could not make out a clear scent.

            He moved past the entrance, deeper into the empty facility.  The hall continued on, breaking off into other identical passageways.  Each new hall was lined with multiple doors, each marked by a dingy nameplate.

            _SECURITY,_ read the first, a solid metal door with no handle, only a swipe card activated mechanical lock.

            _LOUNGE_, reach the next, and a short wall of windows revealed a deserted lunchroom.  The chairs were all stacked neatly against one wall, the table clear of any dishes or leftover food.

            Whoever had worked here before had not left in a great hurry.

            The list of rooms went on much like this, conference rooms, bathrooms, big and small offices…nothing that would have been out of the ordinary if this place were a few stories above ground.

            However, at the end of the main hall, a second door lay in ruin.  Logan examined the broken door carefully, making out the words, _Second Level Clearance ONLY._

            After passing through, the hall turned sharply left, and stretched on to another series of security checkpoints.  Finally, Logan came across a large open room, filled with rows of filing cabinets and dark computer screens.

            At one terminal, the keyboard lay open and the monitor had been cleaned off.  Logan walked over to it and pressed the power button experimentally.  The screen stayed black.

            With a grunt of frustration, Logan shone the flashlight along the wall of files.  Several drawers had been pulled open and ransacked.  He looked at the front of each open cabinet and made a mental note of the recurring topic.

            _Lot Program – Data Files,_ they each read, followed by a progressing series of numbers.  Most of the open drawers had been emptied of all the information they had contained.  Logan searched through the remaining papers and read each briefly before folding them and sticking them inside his coat.

            Most were headlined with the words, _FOR OFFICIAL EYES ONLY, or, __PROPERTY OF SYSTEMS OPERATIONS INCORPORATED._

            Logan did not bother with the details.  He had Charles Xavier and his team to handle that.

            Before continuing on, Logan noticed one other curious item in the far corner.  There was a pile of broken video equipment, which looked as if it had been slashed by several sharp knives.

            Logan ran his fingers along the cuts with sudden conjecture.  Each machine had been destroyed by five evenly lined slashes.  He noticed the same slashes ran along the wall and floor in places and he felt strangely disquieted.  He recognized those marks, the pattern of the cuts…so very similar to the damage his adamantium claws could inflict.

            _But that's impossible_, he thought quickly and shoved the broken VCR away.  He watched it settle among the ruin and then stared at it curiously.  From the rectangular door on the front hung the torn remains of videotape.

            Logan picked up the machine and examined the tattered filmstrip.  He made a fist with one hand, and one long claw shot out from in between his first two fingers.  He used it to carefully carve away the top cover of the VCR and removed a square black videotape.

            The tape's innards had been partially pulled out, leaving most of the film to the mercy of the elements.  Logan carefully wrapped the exposed tape around the case and stowed it away with the rescued files.

            He stood and returned to the long hallway.  The rest of the facility had been heavily damaged by small explosives, and the power to the computers had been cut by the same slashing cuts as the video equipment.

            Logan began to head back towards the entrance, when one last room caught his attention.  The door had also been broken open but the room within had not been touched.  Logan circled inside and felt a cold anger rise in his chest.

            The room was filled with a variety of medical equipment, as well as a large lighting fixture hanging uncertainly over a long metal table.  Next to the table was a machine for monitoring heart rate and respiration, aw well as brain waves.  On one far wall was a dark panel, lined with clips that would have held x-rays and other documents.

            Logan recognized what the room was all too well.  It was a room for medical study, for experimentation.  He pulled his arms in around the files hidden against his chest and ground his teeth.

            He was suddenly very sorry the facility was abandoned.  He would have liked to 'discuss' with its former staff what had been going on in this little hidden room…and why the restraints on that surgical table seemed to have been made for someone very small.

            Logan walked quickly out of the room and down the hall.  He paused and took several deep breaths to help contain his anger.  He needed to get back to the Professor.  He wanted someone to examine at what he had found in this place, and see if these documents had any of the answers he was looking for.

            His thoughts strayed back to the surgical room one last time, and Logan closed his eyes.  An angry roar tore from his lungs and echoed through the empty halls.  Almost without thinking, he slammed one clawed fist into the wall and slashed downward in fury.

            Logan drew his arm back, and felt some bit of self-control fighting through his anger.  He stormed out of the facility into the cold air and left the ruined underground facility to rot.

            Had he taken a moment to examine the marks he had made in the wall, Logan may have found a similar mark, also made in rage, but with the cuts of five blades instead of three.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Flying Blind

Author's Note:  Aww…thank you guys for the reviews.  I hope to keep up this pace of updating every other day or so.   

Chapter 13:

            As the X-Jet lifted off the ground, Mary looked down out of one small window and felt another sob catching in her throat.  She caught it and choked down hard on her sorrow.  She was homesick already, watching Nana wave from the front step, but she would not cry in front of these people again.

            From the earth, which was quickly pulling away from them, Mary could see Nana smiling through streaming tears.  The look of pride in the old woman's eyes was the only thing that kept Mary from forcing these people to land their jet right now and leaving her where she belonged.  Of course, Nana would not have allowed that.  She would have grabbed Mary by the arm and walked her to New York, if that's what it took to get her there.  There was no arguing with Nana when she knew she was right.

            _And she's always right_, Mary thought with a sad grin.  

            The jet moved quickly upward, and Mary gripped the arms of her chair anxiously.  This was the first time she had ever flown, and the thought of hurtling through the air was a little intimidating, no matter how impressive the small jet was.

            As they climbed in altitude, Mary felt like her stomach was now roommates with her esophagus and she breathed slowly to calm herself down.  

            Xavier sensed the girl's discomfort and glanced over at her sympathetically.  She looked very pale, causing her large dark eyes to stand out significantly on her face.  To the Professor, she looked as anxious about the flight as she was about leaving home.

            "Don't worry..." Xavier began, "The trip is much smoother once we are aloft."

            Mary nodded and swallowed, though the look on her face was doubtful.  Xavier noticed how unhappily she was looking down out the window and tried to reassure her.

            "The flight won't be long," he said, and then added with a smile, "We fly a little faster than what is normally allowed to aircraft."

            Mary glanced sideways at the Professor and nodded again, not yet trusting herself to speak without her throat closing.  Silently, she focused her mind and breathed deeply.  She was not going to sit here like a mime the entire way to New York.  After a moment, she spoke.

            "Can I..." she began and inhaled before continuing, "Can I call my grandmother when we get there?  She just wanted to know we got there safe.

            "Of course," Xavier said, "Your room will have its own phone, which you are free to use at any time.  Many of the children come from quite a distance away and a few like to call home everyday.  Luckily, we have very understanding long-distance carrier."

            Mary grinned, "Yeah, I guess so.  What about holidays or if I needed to come back right away?"

            "You are always free to return home at any time," Xavier said, "If you wished to leave tomorrow, it could be arranged as easily if you had wanted to leave six months from now."

            Mary nodded slowly and Xavier smiled sympathetically.

            "I understand this must be difficult for you," he said, "I'm sorry your decision had to be so sudden..."

            "It wasn't," Mary said sharply, "I told you...I probably knew you were coming before you did."

            She gave the Professor a quick apologetic glance.

            "It's just that...I haven't seen anything past this point yet.  My visions always end just when I decide to go with you all.  I guess I'm just used to always knowing what coming...this is the first time I'm flying blind."

            Xavier looked at her for a moment before responding.  He was beginning to understand her apprehension more clearly.  

            "Flying blind..." he repeated softly, "Perhaps...but not flying _alone_."

            Mary turned to face the Professor and held his gaze firmly.  His simple words struck a chord in her, and the doubt she felt about her decision faded a little.  

            When she first learned through her vision that Charles Xavier would be joining the others to find her, a part of her had been afraid to meet the man she felt may have caused the attacks on the world eight months before.  She had not been prepared to meet someone with that much power.

            However, Xavier did not strike her now as having any violence or malicious intentions in him.  She suddenly felt a new doubt, about whether the "Charles" the vision spoke of was Charles Xavier.  How could a man so intent on helping others cause so much pain?

            "Thank you," Mary finally said, "It's good to know there's others out there who can..."

            Mary paused and inhaled sharply as the jet shimmied from air turbulence.  Her stomach did a cartwheel and she closed her eyes.  A wave of nausea passed over her.  Her visions may make her sick and give her headaches...but even they were _way _better than this.

            The jet dipped again and Mary's eyes shot open.

            "Excuse me..." she mumbled as she stumbled out of her seat towards the back of the craft.

            _Second door to the left,_ Xavier sent her telepathically, cutting off the connection as the small bathroom door slammed shut.

***

            Inside the general store, owned and operated by a "Mr. Duchak" for over twenty years, the faint roar of a passing aircraft was heard again by the proprietor.

            Duchak stood on the front steps of the store and looked up into the sky, his aged hands rubbing at the knots in his lower back.  He had lived in this town in Arizona for a long time, but he knew his place in this dusty land was about to be reassessed.

            He stamped out the butt of his cigarette and walked back into his small entrepreneurial placement.

            Not much had changed in the two decades he had been assigned this post, the walls and windows, cracked floors and two slowly revolving ceiling fans, the shelves and counter, all looked as they did when Duchak first arrived (aside from being a bit more weathered).

            However, he did not look on this place with any kind of nostalgia or fondness.  To him, it was a prison, and he hoped his sentence was about to end.  They had assigned him to watch the girl, inform them of any changes or events in her life that might be significant.

            So far, he had filed only one report.  Ten years earlier...to which he received only one response.  _Await further instructions._

            None had ever come, and now he was about to make his second report in twenty years.  He hoped it would also be the last.

            Duchak walked slowly into the back room, though it was no longer the movement of an old storeowner.  It was the march he had been trained to walk, proud and straight, with a quiet gleam of hope in his eyes.

            From his old fashion roll top desk, Duchak withdrew a large high-band communications radio.  It was dusty and outdated, but still looked very out of place in the aging general store.  He twisted the dial to the correct frequency and heard the buzz of background noise fade away.  He pushed in the large button that read "SEND" and smiled callously as he spoke.

            "Position Nineteen to Base," he said in a voice few in town would have recognized, "Target 217 has been identified by C.X.  Assumed destination, New York.  Please report and advise.  Over."


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Storm and Mary

Chapter 14:

            Mary rinsed her face with cold water in the small sink and breathed deeply.

            _Airsickness,_ she thought queasily, _Damn visions could've warned me about that..._

            She had been in the cramped bathroom for about fifteen minutes before she heard a light tapping on the door.  A kind voice called to her.

            "Mary..." she heard Ororo Monroe say, "Are you alright?"

            She did not respond right away, just focused on breathing.

            "Um..." she began, "Yeah, I'm...ok.  Just need...a minute."

            "I have some water when you're ready," Ororo called.

            Mary cringed at the thought of putting something else in her stomach, but decided it would help get the nasty taste out of her mouth.  

            Moving slowly, Mary opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out.  Ororo was waiting patiently, and gave her a hand to one of the back passenger seats.  Thankfully, they were a little more comfortable than the front chairs.

            Mary took a bottle of clear, cold water from the other woman gratefully and leaned her head back against the wall after taking a few uneasy sips.

            "Feeling any better?" Ororo asked with a sympathetic smile.

            Mary chuckled in a shaky voice, "Yeah, I guess.  I think I'm safe as long as there's nothing left to…oh, I'm sorry, that's gross.  I won't go there."

            Ororo grinned, "Don't worry about it.  I actually had the same thing happen my first time on this jet…I guess I've just gotten used to it.  It's not quite like first class on a big passenger plane."

            "I'll take your word for it," Mary said, sitting up, "When I decide to visit home, I'm taking a train."

            "There's actually a station not far from the school," Ororo replied, then thinking back unpleasantly on a previous experience there, she added, "They actually renovated it about a year ago.  The new roof has several new very beautiful skylights…"

            Mary nodded as the woman spoke, appreciating the small talk amidst all her serious decisions today.  Ororo's voice had a quiet accent that Mary could not place, and her voice was confident and soothing.  Although there was still a certain aloofness about her which Mary figured could make her quite commanding in difficult situations.

            There was a moment of silence and Mary looked down at the cold bottle thoughtfully.

            "When did you first know about your powers, Ms. Monroe?" she asked, followed by another quick swallow of water.

            "Please call me Ororo…" the other woman replied, and then added with a teasing smile, "…or Storm."

            Mary grinned as Storm continued.

            "I was twelve…" she began, "Some of the children in my village were playing a game…which I wasn't very good at.  They started teasing me and I got angry.  Suddenly, it started to snow and hail and that scared the other children away."

            "How did you know the snow was your fault?" Mary asked, "I mean, that could have happened anyway, right?"

            "Not in Kenya in the middle of the summer," Storm said, "That's what frightened them.  Imagine a sudden July snow storm in Arizona.  Not a typical event."

            "How did you know it was you?"

            Storm shrugged, "I just knew.  From then on, whenever I was upset or angry, something would happen, whether it was wind or snow or rain.  It didn't take long for my parents to notice the connection.  Luckily, the Professor contacted them shortly after, and he brought me to the school, to learn how to control that power."

            "So…" Mary said, "You were a student of his, too."

            Storm nodded, "Yes, myself and Scott and…a few others…"

            "So, he's been doing this for a long time then," Mary said, and then her eyes widened and she stammered, "Um…not that I mean it's been a _long time_ since you were a student of his…I just mean, you all have been doing this for a while…but not _that long of a while…"_

            Storm smiled with amusement, "Longer than you think.  We've tried to help many children over the years…although it's not always children.  Many mutants don't recognize their powers until they are much older.  And then there are some that are obviously mutants from birth."

            Storm looked at Mary curiously for a moment, and Mary knew what her next question would be, even without any precognition.

            "When did you first learn of your gifts?"

            Mary sighed, "It's a long story.  But the Cliff's Notes version is just as confusing…"

            Storm waited for the girl to continue.  Mary again studied the half-empty water bottle with feigned interest, trying to figure out where to begin.  She decided to follow Storm's lead.

            "I was ten," she began, "My parents had died a few years before, so it was just me and Nana.  The town had a few more families then, but still only enough to have one real classroom.  My friends and I were playing in an empty part of the school, when I thought I saw an..."

            Mary hesitated a moment, giving Storm a nervous glance.

            "Well, I had my first vision.  But it wasn't like a dream of the future, it was more like a flashback…someone else's flashback.  Like I was seeing something from someone else's past…"

            Mary took a deep breath before continuing, shuttering a little from the memory.

            "It was horrible…it was a war, and I was this vicious and cruel soldier.  I went into a kind of trance.  Nana said I had a fever for days and she took me to the Elder members of our tribe when the doctor couldn't tell her what was wrong.  The next thing I remember after blacking out in the school is waking up in one of the ceremonial caves.  Ever since I've had visions.  But more often since…since the attacks eight months ago…"

            She glanced up at Storm, whose gaze was kind and understanding.  Though, inwardly, Storm was contemplating what Mary said with concern.  This girl had been affected by the attacks, as had many others, but had never been sensed by Cerebro before, despite saying that she had been having visions for years.  Storm wondered why the Professor had not identified Mary Sloane previously.

            "You really think the Professor can help me learn to control them?" Mary asked, shaking Storm from her thoughts.

            "I believe he can…" Storm said, and then added with a grin, "You know, the first training session I had with him and the other students was a snowball fight.  Challenge of it was, I had to make my own snow…"

            Mary laughed, "I don't think mine will be quite the same…"

            "It's only March," Storm said, "I _may be able to arrange one last snowfall before spring.  Although I should warn you…we do have one student who can split into several different copies of himself.  He's usually the toughest player to beat."_

            Mary blinked in surprise, "Copies of himself?  Wow…what else can the other do?"

            "I'm sure they'll all be _more than willing to show off when you arrive," Storm said, "You feel well enough to join us again?  I'm sure the Professor would like to answer any questions you have.  I should get back to the piloike to fill you in on the details of what we do. been sense by Cerebro before ny precognition._

tionst's seat…Scott usually hits more turbulence than I do."

            "Sure…" Mary said, standing, "The less of that the better."

            The two women walked to the front of the jet to join the others.  

            The rest of the flight was pleasant and uneventful.  The four companions chatted on about the school and the children, and as Mary spoke to Xavier specifically, she knew more and more that this was where she was meant to go.  

            She only hoped that, be it the visions or the angels or anyone she might meet, someone would eventually tell her why.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Pit Stop

Chapter Fifteen:

            Along a winding stretch of road in upstate New York, a lone motorcycle roared through the early evening.  The sky was dark and starless, the clouds thick enough to hide the nearly full moon.  

            However, the twilight rider moved effortlessly along the black asphalt, able to see the road in the dark with more ease than most people could in the daylight.  The rumble of the engine as he tore towards his destination was very soothing for the traveler, though must have sounded like a jet to anyone nearby.  

            Logan could have driven this stretch of highway with his eyes closed.  It was a road he had traveled many times over the past two years since first coming to Xavier's School for the Gifted, and now he was heading home again.

            In his fifteen years of wandering, Logan had never thought of any place as home, not even the ramshackle trailer he had hauled all over northern Alberta.  But, for many reasons, he found himself drawn back again and again to Xavier's school, and he figured it was as good a place to think of as 'home base' as any where else.

            Logan approached a crossroad, where the highway divided, and instead of turning right towards the school, he made a left.  There was one more place he needed to stop before he ended his journey.

            After another mile, Logan pulled into a small lot and parked his bike under a dim neon sign.  There were only a few other cars parked next to the aging cement walls of the bar.  It was too early in the evening for the larger groups of regular patrons and Logan preferred to finish his business here before the nightly crowds rolled in.  

            _RUSTY'S, the sign read in glowing blue letters, and Logan glanced up and grinned.  Now, he knew he was home._

            Pushing the windowless door inward, Logan instinctively took stock of the people around him.  There were two couples seated in booths along the back wall and two men at the bar, watching ESPN as they had an after-work beer.  They were all locals, and Logan knew each of them by scent, if not by name.

            Logan moved quickly through a small maze of tables and greeted the bartender with a nod before sitting at the last stool.  The middle aged man put down the glasses he had been drying and pulled a beer out of one cooler.  He walked over to the end of the bar and handed the bottle to Logan without being asked.

            "Hey, there, friend," the bartender said, "So, you're back again…"

            Logan glanced at the man and took the drink appreciatively.

            "Thanks, Rus," he grumbled more than said, and took three quick swallows before handing over his money.

            The bartender grinned broadly and shook his head as he headed to the cash register.  Logan had been one of his regular patrons for a couple of years and Rus learned his routine quickly.  He would come in around this same time, order a few beers and then leave.  Never really talked to anybody (except Rus himself) and always came alone.

            Strange part was, Logan was not really a 'regular,' in the true sense of the word.  Months could go by without seeing the quiet dark haired man, then he would appear again, almost as if he had never been away.  But, he seemed civil enough, never caused any trouble and always paid his tab.  In Rusty's book, that made him a good guy, and a great customer.

            And, of course, there was another item which Rusty frequently procured for Logan, an under the table and mostly unspoken business arrangement they had.

            "Has the shipment come in yet?" Logan asked as Rus handed over his change.

            "Not yet," he replied, "Frankly, I wasn't expectin' you for a while.  Just put the order in this morning after you called.  But, it should be here soon."

            Logan nodded and took another drink from his bottle.  He did not mind waiting.  Merchandise of that quality was worth waiting for.

            A few quiet moments past, when the front door swung open again.  Logan did not turn around, but noticed a strange smile touch Rus's face.  The bartender reached for a bottle on a high shelf, and placed a small glass on the bar, as the new arrival sat down.

            "Bourbon, _mon ami," the man said, with a strong accent, as he took a seat a few feet down from Logan.  He seemed surprised as the bartender placed the glass before him, almost before he asked for it, but smiled gratefully._

            "_Merci," he said, and finished the glass quickly.  The man glanced around the bar, and seemed disappointed.  He tipped his glass in greeting to the two men watching the television, only to be met with hard glares.  The man sighed and shook his head._

            "Quiet tonight, no?" he asked Rus with a friendly grin as the bartender refilled his glass.

            "You should know by now," Rus replied, "Most folks don't come way out here 'til later, friend."

            "_Oui, I do," the man replied, "Unfortunately, I don't have the freedom to stay out as late as I would like.  Which _you_ should know…"_

            "I see," Rus said, and then grinned, "Gotta woman waitin' for you?"

            The man with the accent laughed, "One or two.  Though not quite how you mean."

            "Kids waitin' then?" Rus asked.

            "Dozens…" the man said with a sigh, warranting another laugh from his host.

            Logan rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the television instead of the new arrival's ramblings.  Unfortunately, the man glanced up at Rus and, to Logan's complete annoyance, began to speak again.

            "Don't suppose you know any place I could get a round of five-card in, eh?" the man asked, "I know you don't like cards here, _ami_, but is there anywhere closer than the A.C. that a man could play a straight hand?"

            Rus shook his head, "Sorry, aside from getting' some regular poker buddies to meet at your house, I think you're shit out of luck."

            The man chuckled, "Not at _my house_…no, _definitely not.  Management there doesn't like gambling either, if you get what I mean…"_

            Logan finished his first beer, and motioned to Rus for another.  Outside, the squeal of truck tires could be heard.  Rus gave Logan a quick nod.  Merchandise was here.  Rus dried his hands on the towel hanging from his belt and headed out back.

            The accented man glanced over, as if noticing Logan for the first time, and tipped his glass towards him in greeting.

            _Oh, shit, Logan thought, realizing a moment too late that the chatty guest was about to turn on him._

            "What about you, _ami," the man called, "Know any place a guy could find an honest hand of poker?"_

            Logan glared over at him, "No."

            "Fair enough," the man replied disappointed, and then added, "How about a dishonest one?"

            Logan did not reply, but continued glaring until the man shrugged.

            "Doesn't hurt to ask?" the man said, and then sighed, "Sure does help clear the head, though.  I wasn't exaggerating when I said I have dozens of children to go home to."

            "Good for you," Logan said, trying to end the conversation.

            "Not my children, _par bon-heur," the man continued, "But still dozens under the same roof.  Not exactly the best place for a free man, such as myself, which is why I search for solace elsewhere."_

            Logan remained visibly uninterested, but listened to the man carefully.  Something in his description of 'home' sounded very familiar.

            "_Mais," the man continued, giving Logan a wicked grin, "There are some benefits.  There are a few very _beaux femmes_ there, which makes up for all the _petits_…"_

            "Really?" Logan said darkly, "You must think you're a pretty lucky guy…"

            The man laughed, "Not until I _get lucky_, _mon ami."_

            "I'm not your _ami, bub," Logan shot back, disliking the man more and more.  He suddenly hoped this 'home' the man described was not where Logan was thinking of._

            The accented man shrugged and gave Logan a cold grin, "No insult to me…"__

            As he finished his drink, Rus came back into the bar with a small wrapped parcel.  The accented man took a twenty out of his long jacket and slid it across the bar towards him.

            "Thanks for the drinks, _mon ami_," he said, stressing the last two words significantly, "I certainly hope the _troux de cul clear up before your other customers show up."_

            The man stood, letting his long coat swirl dramatically around, and headed out the door.  Logan frowned as he watched the man leave, and then smirked as Rus wandered toward him.  Logan had spent enough time in Canada to pick up some French, and he knew he had just been called an 'asshole.'

            The bartender handed him his third beer, and Logan looked up at him with disgruntled amusement.

            "So, that guy around a lot?" Logan asked, and Rus nodded.

            "Yeah, showed up about a month ago," he said, "Comes in a few times a week…"

            "Could you do me a favor and let me know when he's _not _here," Logan replied.

            Rus laughed, "No problem…here's your stuff."

            Logan grumbled in acknowledgement and took the parcel in exchange for several rolled bills.  He tore open the brown paper and lifted the box's lid.  He pulled out one fresh cigar and rolled it in his fingers.

            Rus passed him a few packs of matches and Logan grinned before lighting it.  


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Winding Down

Chapter 16:

            As afternoon faded into evening, Rogue pushed the large door to the kitchen outward with a sigh and walked into the hall.  She had just finished helping the last few younger students clean up and put away their dinner dishes and she was near exhausted after such a busy Saturday.

            Typically, weekends around the mansion were quiet and relaxing (at least for the students), but Rogue's duties included more than her studies, and she had been working in the lab with Bobby and Dr. McCoy for most of the day.  As much as she disliked kitchen detail, at least it was better than being cooped up in the lower levels for hours.

            Rogue stretched her gloved arms up over her head and yawned.  The evening light was shining diagonally through the tall windows and throwing long shadows along the floor.  As she reached the end of the hall, she could hear the sounds of a loosely organized baseball game out on one of the back lawns.

            Strolling out the large back porch doors, Rogue could see about twenty of her classmates, young and not-as-young, spread out next to a makeshift diamond.  The day was getting chilly as the sun started to set, and a few still wore jackets when playing outside.  

            Peter was standing in centerfield, calling quick orders to his teammates, while Kitty and Tracy were sitting in their 'dugout' doing fairly good impersonations of him.  Blink was standing on the pitcher's mound, looking a little nervous through his round spectacles, but the other players on the field called to him encouragingly.  They usually rotated positions, so each had a turn pitching, though it had been systematically decided last summer that Peter would keep his strong arm in the outfield, which he grudgingly agreed to after breaking the wooden bats of three hitters...in a row.

            Rogue walked down a few paces towards the lawn and sat down on the stone steps.  She leaned her chin in one palm and smiled softly as she watched her friends.  It had been such a long, sad winter for them all, she was glad to see a little life coming back into the school.  

            After a few moments, she glanced to her left and noticed Kurt perching quietly on the stone ledge that lined the large bricked patio.  He was gazing in the direction of the game, but his eyes looked thoughtful and distant.  He was crouching, resting his arms on his knees, his hands steepled at the fingertips.

            Behind him, the sky was slowing fading to a deep orange as the sun set, and he was silhouetted against the light.  He sat almost completely motionless and, if not for the lazy movements of his tail, Rogue could have easily confused him for a dark, watchful statue.  She noticed his rosary hanging loosely around his neck, and she knew he was not praying, just thinking.

            Rogue stood and walked over to where her friend sat.  Out of all the mutants who had come to the mansion over the past eight months, she was still the closest to Kurt.  She had spent a lot of time just chitchatting with him, and he always seemed to appreciate every moment of conversation he had with anyone.  He had lived in solitude for a long time, and though it had not made him cold or bitter to the world, his long unattended thirst for simple human interaction made him a quick and loyal friend.

            "Hey, Kurt," Rogue said as she approached him.  Kurt blinked, surprised out of his thoughts and then gave her a bright grin.

            "Oh, hello," he replied, "Dinner all finished?"

            "Yep, every last kiddo fed," she said, and then grinned, "Including me." 

            "And most already running it off," he added as the crack of a bat, followed by a small group of cheers, filled the air.  

            They both chuckled as they watched Kitty Pryde run _through_ the first baseman, whose team suddenly called foul to the 'no powers' rule that most games at the mansion had.  Tracy was jumping up and down along the third base, urging Jamie to 'split up, boyo' to earn her team a few extra points.

            Kurt glanced over at Rogue curiously, "How was the work with the doctor today?"

            Rogue shrugged, "Not too bad.  Lots of paperwork for the kids medical charts but he kept us pretty entertained.  Plus when we took lil' Melinda down for her check-up, she kept calling him 'Sulley,' for some reason..."

            Kurt laughed, "That is from that movie they watched last month.  You know...with the monsters and the doors..."

            "Oh...right..." Rogue said with wide eyes, "I hope that didn't bother him too much..."

            "I doubt it," Kurt replied, still grinning, "He seems like a very understanding man.  If I remember, he found the similarity quite amusing himself."

            Rogue nodded and looked relieved.  She knew many of the others joked about their mutations openly, like Siryn or Kitty, and though it was never malicious, Rogue could not imagine talking about her power in such a way.  Even Kurt made the occasional quip about his tail, but for her it was just too difficult.

            "Did Storm say when they would be gettin' back?" Rogue asked, and Kurt shook his head.

            "No, but I don't think they expected to stay long," he replied, "Ms. Monroe did not say the girl was returning with them."

            "Actually, she is," a new voice called.  Rogue grinned as Bobby walked up next to them.  He slung one arm casually over her shoulder and pointed at the sky.

            "Cyclops just radioed from the jet..." he explained, "Said to get a single room ready for a new guest."

            Kurt nodded with a smile, and Rogue looked over at the field thoughtfully.  With how frequently new arrivals were coming to the mansion, she figured the Professor would need to start building additions to the dorms.

            Bobby and Kurt began talking about the training sessions in the Danger Room that had been scheduled for next week.  Rogue listened vaguely, and folded her arms.  Storm had insisted Rogue also choose a time to meet for training, though Rogue was not sure how the elaborate facility could help her control her power.  

            She was not like Bobby or Kurt or Peter, whose gifts could be seen, manipulated and made useful.  Her gift was not a gift, simply a complicated and uncontainable way to take what did not belong to her.  

            Inwardly, she almost felt as if her power made her an unwilling thief.  And she would not touch someone, not take their very life force, just for the very unlikely chance she would learn a little bit on control.  She would not risk someone else's life like that.

            Suddenly, a wail from the baseball field drew her from her thoughts.  Bobby moved quickly down the steps and across the field, and Rogue followed, hearing from behind her the soft, strange noise that accompanied Kurt's teleportation.

            On the grass, Blink was sitting near 'home plate,' cradling his arm and wincing in pain.  Kurt was already at his side when Bobby and Rogue caught up.  He held the boy's arm and had Blink move his hand experimentally.  Kurt patted the boy's head sympathetically.

            "Just twisted, I think," he said, "But better go see the doctor anyway."

            "What happened?" Rogue asked, and Kitty looked between her friend and the boy with concern.

            "He was trying to slide into home…guess he tripped and came down on his arm."

            Blink sniffed unhappily and nodded, as Kurt helped him to his feet.  The other children had formed a loose circle around the fallen player.  Bobby put an encouraging hand on Blink's shoulder.

            "Think you can walk down with me?" he asked, and when Blink sniffed and nodded again, Bobby grinned, "Ok, let's go then.  Did you at least get to the plate?"

            "Damn right he did!" Siryn said, giving Blink a grin as he walked past, "Don't worry, kid, the doc'll fix you up good.  Hurry back, though!  You're the only pitcher on Peter's team worth spit!"

            Blink grinned back and headed up towards the house with Bobby.  Rogue touched Bobby's arm lightly with appreciation as he walked past.  Standing here, surrounded by her friends, she realized she was happier than she had been in a long time, despite all of her other worries.

            "Guess the game's over…let's pack up," Peter said.  The sun had set, and the first stars had begun to appearing in the darkening sky.  The kids gathered their things and started to head inside.

            The lights along the patio flickered to life one at a time and Rogue folded her arms around her and shivered, sadly admitting to herself that is was not quite spring.  Kurt was ushering the last few students inside, promising the enthusiastic youngsters to make snacks for whatever movie they planned to watch.

            Rogue was following the crowd up to the second floor, when Bobby appeared from the elevator with a much less disheveled Blink and followed by Henry McCoy.

            "Well," the doctor began with a grin, "Let's hope that closes up shop for the night.  No diving for the popcorn, young man…"

            "I'll reach with my good arm!" Blink said before charging up the stairs past Rogue, waving his Ace-Bandaged wrist like a trophy.  They heard his pounding steps reach the second floor common room, where he was greeting by Siryn like a returning war veteran.

            "Gonna watch the movie with us, Doc?" Bobby asked the taller man, who shook his head.  

            "No, I have a few things I want to straighten up in my classroom before turning in," Henry said, "But I'll check in on Blink one more time before he heads to bed.  Thank you both again for your help today.  I'll see you in the morning…"

            With that, Rogue and Bobby both said good night to the doctor as he wandered happily towards the school rooms.  Hand in hand, the pair headed up the steps together to join their friends.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Sneaking In

Chapter Seventeen:

            The students at Xavier's School for the Gifted were piled on the floor in the common room, some still watching the movie, but most were sleeping.  One by one, Rogue and Kurt started taking the younger ones to their rooms and Bobby headed downstairs to double check all the security monitors.  He was not sure how late the Professor and the others would be back, so he made sure everything was locked down tight.

            As he reached the front hall, he heard someone swear as they kicked an end table near the stairs.  Bobby frowned and turned on a nearby lamp.  

            "_Merci beaucoup, mon ami," Remy said, rubbing his knee with a grimace, "Trying to sneak in after hours is not so easy…"_

            "Most students aren't out this late," Bobby said with a frown.

            "_Vrai__, mais…wait, did you say __most?" Remy replied, grinning wickedly, "Taken a few late night runs yourself, no?"_

            "No…" Bobby said sternly, and then glanced around with amusement and added, "Well…yeah, but not _this late…"_

            Remy looked at his watch and frowned unhappily.

            "Eleven o'clock?" he said, then sighed and sat on the first stair, "Back home that was barely breakfast time for me…"

            Bobby chuckled, "Yeah, well…lunch is in twelve hours, so you I think you still have some time…"

            His words were cut off as a loud rumbling began to approach the mansion.  Bobby glanced out one window and looked at the sky, expecting to see the jet hovering to land.  However, when he saw a single headlight coming up the long driveway, he knew who the late arrival was.

            Before he could call her, Rogue was at the top of the staircase, smiling widely at the growing sound.  Bobby headed toward her and Remy stood up between them, looking very confused.

            "What's that…" he muttered, "A tank?"

            Rogue laughed, and stood on the step above him.  Remy turned and looked up at her.  For a moment, when she laughed, the burden he saw in her eyes faded and he thought she looked very young…and very beautiful.  

            "I'll go unlock the door…" Bobby said, with much less enthusiasm than Rogue had.

            Remy turned to face her again, still blocking the path between Rogue and the front hall.  

            "So, are we at war, what?" he asked, quietly relieved when the rumbling stopped, "Is that the jet?"

            Rogue looked down at him with annoyance, "No, not the jet…just a friend…"

            She tried to walk past him and Remy took a smooth step in her way.

            "Friend?" he asked and then motioned to her teasingly, "_I'm_ never this excited to see just a friend…"

            Rogue sighed with annoyance, "Surely they're never as excited to see you either…excuse me…"

            "It's just…" he replied, moving smoothly back as she tried to get past him again, "…all these new people…I think we need introductions…especially if this person is _so important to you, __belle __chere."_

            Rogue rolled her eyes, "I'm sure the Professor will introduce you…"

            Remy shook his head and gave her a flirtatious grin, "No, _chere, no.  That is so formal.  I think it would be very gracious for you to host while the Professor is gone, no?  So, who is your _fascinating _friend?"_

            Rogue folded her arms smugly, "You can ask him yourself…"

            Remy frowned, and then heard someone in the hall behind him.  The footsteps were heavy, and he could smell a cigar.  

            "Say, bub," a gruff voice said, "Don't I know you?"

            Remy turned and stared wide-eyed at Logan, who gave him a long, but not entirely unamused glare, before glancing over at Rogue.

            "Hey, kid," he greeted her with a grin.  Rogue escaped past the speechless Cajun and hugged the rugged looking man around the neck.

            "Hey, Logan," she said, stepping back and smiling brightly.  Bobby walked up beside her and held out his hand.

            "Iceman…" Logan said, shaking the boy's hand once with a grin, "Holdin' down the fort, huh?"

            "Yeah, the Professor and Storm and Cyclops should be back soon though," Bobby said quickly, still a little nervous in the older man's presence.  He figured he always would be, after seeing Logan fight off the guards the night the mansion was invaded.

            "Terrific," Logan said sarcastically, "I think I'll wait up for them…"

            Rogue yawned, and glanced between Bobby and Logan, thinking this had been the best day she had had in a while.

            "Well…I'm gonna go finish helpin' Kurt with the kids and then I'm headin' to bed," she said, "See ya'll in the morning."

            "Night, kid," Logan said, as she walked up the stairs and then glanced at Bobby, "I'll keep an eye down here until the Professor and crew show up."

            "Sounds good to me…" Bobby said, "There are a few new faces around here so don't be surprised if they're wandering around at night."

            "Right," Logan said, glancing over at Remy, who was still standing on the stairs as Bobby followed Rogue up to the second floor.

            After a silence that lasted years for Remy LeBeau, the man called Logan wandered to the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at him darkly.  Remy swallowed once, hoping the man had not taken Remy's closing remarks at the bar too seriously.

            "So…" Logan said, breathing out cigar smoke, "Guess tonight's _not your lucky night, eh, bub?"_

            Remy said nothing, but waited until Logan had left the main hall towards the kitchen before sitting again on the last step of the staircase.  Smooth talkin' Remy LeBeau had been knocked speechless by the appearance of the other man until now, and he could only think of one thing to say that could describe this new situation.

            "_Merde_."


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Within the Flame

Author's note:  Holy crap, another update.  :-)  Again, to all reviewers, thanks for the love!  :-)  You keep me motivated (or is it instigated?) to keep up the pace.

Chapter Eighteen:

            It was nightfall by the time the X-Jet flew almost noiselessly over the Westchester County line.  The Professor had wanted their entrance to be as inconspicuous as possible, so Storm engaged the jet's silent landing thrusters.  The children would be mostly asleep now, and he did not want to stir them, so that their new guest was not bombarded with too many curious stares.  Mary had nodded off in the chair behind Storm, and Xavier touched her arm gently to wake her.

            Mary opened her eyes slowly, glancing over at Xavier's smiling face.

            "We're here..." he said, with a quiet pride.  Mary looked to the left out her window, seeing nothing but the trees and the darkness.  The jet made a small dive forward and Mary gripped the armrests of her seat.  She silently wished she had slept through this part of the flight too.  

            With a few quick, learned maneuvers, Cyclops and Storm lowered the jet towards the ground.  To Mary's surprise, she noticed they were very close to the doors of a large mansion, and then dropped lower, past ground level, into the landing bay.  She clenched her fists again as the jet touched down, and then exhaled with relief.  She reminded herself to get the directions to the train station from Storm...

            They exited the jet and headed out of the landing bay down a long, silver hall.  It was dimly lit, but brightened as their movements were picked up by the sensors.  They past several closed silver doors until they reached the elevator.

            After they entered, Scott put down one of Mary's suitcases (which he insisted on helping her with), and pushed the button for the ground floor.  Mary jumped a little as the door closed quickly and the lift whirred to life.

            Once inside the mansion itself, Scott and Storm headed upstairs with Mary's belongings, but Xavier held the girl back a moment before she followed them.

            "I hope the ride was not too uncomfortable for you," he said kindly.  Mary, still glancing around the dark hallway, shook her head.

            "No, it was ok," she said softly.  She was feeling a little overwhelmed by their quick entrance and walk through the strange underground passage.  She wondered what kind of school would need those kinds of facilities.

            "I'll give you a proper tour and introductions tomorrow," Xavier said, "For now, I think we could all use a bit of rest."

            "Yeah, sure..." she said, still sounding distant.

            Xavier watched her curiously.  She was frowning slightly, her demeanor almost rigid, and was examining everything she could see intensely. 

            Mary then sharpened her gaze on Xavier, "Professor...what exactly is this place?"

            Xavier smiled knowingly.  That was not an uncommon question for new arrivals.

            "We are a school for gifted youngsters," he replied, "That is what really matters.  Everything else...well, that's to help the one's we can't bring here."

            Mary stared at the man a moment and then nodded.  Fair enough for now, she would have to wait for tomorrow to learn more about the 'everything else' the Professor talked about.

            A sound from behind them caused Xavier to turn around curiously.  From around one corner, Logan appeared, holding a cigar in one hand.  It was unlit now, extinguished as Logan heard the X-jet approaching.

            Mary stared at the man with surprise.  He was not much taller than her, but was probably three times as broad.  That, along with his strangely windswept hair, made him look very fearsome in the shadows, though the expression on his face as he drew closer was not hostile.

            "Logan," Xavier greeted him, "Welcome back..."

            "Professor," he said in a gruff, but friendly voice.  He gave Mary only a passing glance, figuring she was one of the 'new faces' Bobby warned him about.

            "When did you arrive?" Xavier asked.

            "About an hour ago," Logan replied.

            "Did you…find what you were looking for?"

            Logan shrugged, "Yes and no...always the same answer.  But I do have some things I want to talk to you about.  Papers I found..."

            He paused, and looked over at Mary as if he had noticed her for the first time.  Mary shifted uncomfortably as a strange suspicion fell over his face, and he nodded in her direction.  

            "She new?" he asked the Professor, who smiled apologetically at them both.

            "Yes," he replied, "Logan, meet Mary Sloane.  She'll be joining us here for some time."

            Logan, seemingly satisfied by the Professor's brief introduction, nodded again.  He glanced past Mary's shoulder to the staircase as Storm and Scott reached the bottom steps.  Storm smiled and greeted him, but Scott's face remained cool and neutral.

            "...I also found a video tape," Logan continued after the two other X-Men joined them, "Haven't been able to watch it though.  It was pretty chewed up..."

            "We can run it through the computer," Storm offered, "See if it can salvage any of the footage..."

            "And we'll have Bobby or Rogue scan the documents for examination," the Professor added thoughtfully.

            "Are they all from Colorado?" Scott asked, speaking for the first time.

            Logan glanced at him quickly, "Yeah, place looked like it'd been empty for years..."

            Mary was glancing between the others, uncertain of what to do as they talked.  It seemed like some of that 'everything else' the Professor had talked about.  She thought maybe she should excuse herself and head to bed, but she had no idea where that would be. 

            Xavier sensed the girl's hesitation and smiled apologetically.

            "Why don't we continue this in the morning," Xavier said to the others, "We've all had a rather long day...Storm, could you show our new guest to her room…"

            Storm nodded and gestured for Mary to follow her.  

            "Professor," Logan began, "I was really hoping to go over this right now…"

            "In the morning," Xavier said politely but sternly, "Get some rest.  You have had a long journey as well…"

            Logan ground his teeth, looking dissatisfied by the discussion's sudden end, but nodded grudgingly.  Mary and Storm reached the landing at the top of the stairs and Mary looked back down towards the others again.

            She frowned, looking between the Professor and Scott, and then Scott and Logan.  There was something there, something existing, almost hovering within their conversation.  Unspoken, a memory, a connection…what was it?

            As she stared at the three men, time for her stopped.  Mary stared down at them, and in the center of their loose circle, something flickered.  Like a spark, a flame...growing in their midst.  None of them see it, even as the flame grows brighter, stronger, they do not even realize it is there.

            From what seemed like a great distance, Mary felt someone touch her arm.  Her eyes moved right, her vision slow and swimming.  She could see Storm's concerned face, asking her if she was alright.  The words were too faint to hear, and Mary felt herself swoon.  Her whole body trembled as the vision took hold…

            With effort, she turned her head back towards the bottom of the staircase.  The flame had grown, gone beyond the others, alighting the carpet, the walls, the curtains…

            Everything was burning as the fire grew, the front room of the mansion alive with flame, consuming everything it touched…

            Mary stumbled, and vaguely felt the strong arms that kept her from falling…

***

_            …The fire grew…but no one saw it until it was too late…_

_                                    She was standing in a forest, the X-Jet behind her…_

_She heard the water before anyone else…_

_                                    She was lifting the jet, it was so light…_

_The damn broke, a tidal wave spilling from the freed lake…_

_                                    Water was roaring towards her, she held up her other hand…_

_The water was heavier, much harder to hold back…_

_                                    She felt her power surge, her body burning with it…_

_Her friends are safe, she let the water take her…_

_            …There were flames in her eyes…the water cannot touch her…_

_            …Much has changed, she had changed, where is she…_

_            …Oh, God, it's on fire!...The children!...Get them out!..._

_A flame rises into the sky, it hovers, it swoops, it's diving down…_

_Mary is standing on the road, but she can still see the flames.  _The mansion, the school, it's on fire… It's burning, falling down…

_                                                                                    …Mary…_

_…who is this?…_

_                                                                                    …Mary…_

_…what do want with me!  why are you showing me this…_

_                                                                                    …this is what will be…_

_…how?  when?  who died in that flood?..._

_                                                                                    …this is what will happen…_

_…what will happen?..._

_                                                                                    …if you fail…_

_…I don't understand! Fail what?..._

_                                                                                    …my Child, they'll need your help…_

_Mary screamed.  Her mind was filled with thousands of images, of what was, of what will be...of right now.  The bombardment tore through her, and she saw everything, she saw everyone, all in one moment…and then it was gone.  _

_All that was left was one fading voice before she blacked out._

_                        … you have a world of work ahead of you…_

***

            Scott ran up the stairs, reaching the landing just as Mary collapsed to the floor.  Storm cradled the girl's head, keeping it from being slammed into the floor as waves of violent tremors began to tear through Mary's body.

            "Professor!" Storm shouted, but Xavier's eyes were already closed.

            _Henry…he called to the doctor in his mind, __We need you…_

            Logan crouched next to Storm and helped them brace Mary's thrashing limbs.

            "What the hell is happening to her?" he asked, and Storm shook her head.

            "I don't know," she replied.

            "Looks like she's having a seizure," Scott said quickly.

            From below, Xavier tried to focus his mind on the girl, and frowned in frustration.  He could not reach her, it was as if she was not even there.

            Suddenly, Mary's eyes opened wide and a scream exploded from her throat.  Then, the tremors stopped and her body went limb.

            The three X-Men were breathing heavily from the effort to hold the girl still, and pounding footsteps rattled through the hall as Henry appeared on the landing.  He knelt and did a quick examination.

            "Help me bring her downstairs," he said, taking Mary's head and upper arms from Storm, and with Scott and Logan, took her quickly to the medical bay.

            Storm walked back down the staircase and stood next to the Professor, her own hands shaking slightly in fright.

            "My God, Charles," she said softly as the elevator door's hissed shut, "Was _that one of her precognitions?"_

            "I don't know," Xavier replied honestly, concern darkly clouding his face, "I couldn't reach her.  Couldn't touch her mind at all.  Her grandmother warned us that she was prone to such attacks, but…I've never seen such a seizure come on so quickly.  I'm afraid only Mary will be able to tell us what just happened."

            Storm nodded and let out a shaky sigh.  She hoped Dr. McCoy would be able to help the girl recover from such a violent attack on the body.  

            Xavier tilted his head, listening, and glanced up towards the second floor.  He could sense some of the children stirring anxiously.  Mary's scream must have woken them, and he called out a calming message, reassuring them that all was safe.  Most of the students had been here when the mansion had been invaded by Stryker's men, and Xavier made sure to reach each mind to prevent a panic.  He called out again, specifically to Bobby and Rogue, to make sure everyone who had been wakened found their way back to bed.

            As Xavier and Storm made their way silently down to the lower levels, the Professor pondered on their new guest with perplexed concern.  Why had he not been able to sense her while she was in that state?  He had reached people in much deeper levels of mental impairment before, so what was different about this child?  

            He sighed with frustration.  He could not think on his own concerns now.  Instead, he would work with his team to somehow find a way to prevent Mary from suffering such violent, unexpected attacks.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Interlude 2

Author's note:  Have to give a co-author credit to a friend of mine for this chapter for giving me a few landmarks in Oxford to help establish setting, since I don't know Jack about any place outside of PA, USA.  Also, have been dropping hints in past few chapters about other stories and characters to make appearances later on in later books.  This chapter gives a BIG hint, but don't expect who you may be expecting because _I don't know who to expect yet.  Did that make sense?  No, ok then I'm on the right track…_

Chapter Nineteen:

INTERLUDE Two

_Oxford__, __England_

            In a quaint and well-kept cobblestone building off High Street, near Magdalen College, Quintin Travers sat in a tall leather chair in his dimly lit office, reading the morning paper by a large multi-paned window.  The early morning light streamed past the open curtains, throwing long shadows over the top of a massive cherry-wood desk.  

            The walls were lined with bookcases, each shelf filled with innumerable volumes, ranging from recent publications on philosophy and sciences to ancient texts dealing with religion and mythology.  A colorful tapestry depicting ancient Rome hung above a large fireplace, the mantle of dark, polished stone covered by a variety of antiques and one quietly ticking clock.

            Travers picked up a small cup from the desk and sipped at the strong coffee as his eyes scanned the newsprint.  The articles were of local interest, nothing that would have been of dramatic consequence to the rest of the world, but Travers had lived in the area for nearly forty years, and still liked to keep up on the local gossip.  

            He had not been born in England, but had adapted to his life there easily, the land and people being more of his temperament than a bustling American city.  Now, as he was approaching the age of sixty, he better appreciated these private, relaxing moments in the face of his regular daily responsibilities…most of which stood in stark contrast to this momentary façade of tranquility.

            A light knock on the office door stirred him from his thoughts.  He smiled warmly as a gray-haired woman in a long simple dress pushed the door open and glanced inside.  The smile was genuine, but the warmth did not touch his eyes.

            "Good morning, Mr. Travers," she asked, "Am I intruding?"

            "Of course not, Sharon," he replied, "Please come in…have you just arrived?"

            "Yes, sir," she said with a polite nod, "I just wanted to bring you your messages from last night before I began my own work for the day.  Seems like it was a quiet night, only two phone calls and one courier letter…"

            "Ah, thank you," Travers said, and then added with a wry grin, "Let's hope this trend continues…maybe I can put in for an early retirement."

            "The day you retire, sir," Sharon replied smartly before she left the room, "Is the day I dance The Dutch's Waltz in Buckingham Palace."

            Travers laughed at the old woman's dry wit.  She had passed him several slips of paper, all marked _URGENT_.  Each brief, typed letter had been delivered via fax from a late working student who manned the main phones at the Council's offices after dark.  The job itself was quite dull (unless there was a crisis) but most of those training with the Council jumped at the chance, as the position also had developed a rather prestigious, if not infamous, reputation.

            The night was the most perilous time for Council members, in any part of the world, due to their special and strange fields of study.  And, while they did not typically interfere with their subjects, there was still a danger in the simple act of Watching, especially when those being watched did not approve.

            Quintin Travers had been a Watcher of paranormal activity around the globe for over half a century, his studies initiated at a very young age, following the tradition of his family.  Over the decades, he had earned the distinction of being a Council leader and it was now his duty to monitor all their concerns, from overseeing their most ancient laws to addressing any new issues with Council Houses on six continents. 

            In his half century of service, only one major issue had a lasting effect on Council policy, and that was the mutant phenomenon.  Since the discovery of the mutant gene, the decision on how to address the existence of mutants within the Council's laws had been a matter of debate.  

            Mutants defied all previous classifications of beings, since they were not truly paranormal in nature yet often times possessed gifts of incredible power beyond scientific explanation.  They were not demons or sorcerers or any kind of creature that gained their powers through aberrant means.  Mutants were essentially human beings whose bodies had adapted to genetic changes caused by the extra part of their DNA.  

            Therefore, the Council had reached a stalemate.  Their legacy demanded they monitor any dark and evil forces and train those gifted with paranormal powers how to protect the unsuspecting populace of the world from destruction.  But did their duty also apply to mutants, who were not a paranormal phenomenon, but a natural evolutionary branch of humanity?

            To Travers, the debate was dead, a non-issue that had existed in a limbo of indecision for decades, which he had thankfully been able to ignore for most of his time as a Council leader.  The dangers that may or may not be presented by mutants had been secondary compared to the threat of unnatural creatures arising in the most western states of America, a problem that was currently well managed by a particular Watcher and his ward.

            However, as Travers read the last note that had been received this morning from the Council's main offices, he knew he may finally have to confront the mutant issue head on.  He planned to address it to one mutant in particular, a colleague from the past, who had built his own sanctuary for those with strange gifts.

            It read:

            _To Q.T., _Oxford___, __England___

_            217 has been identified by Xavier.  We believe they have arrived in __Westchester__.    _

_            Council advisement has been requested by Watcher in __Arizona__.  Shall we _

_            dispatch a team to __New York__?  Please reply immediately as probability of _

_            discovery is high.  We await your instructions._

_            -- N.H., __Buffalo__, __New York_, ___USA_

            Travers sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.  This had been something he had been dreading for twenty years.

            "Charles…" he said, and tapped his fingers on the desk rhythmically.

            After a moment, he pushed a call button on his phone, and gave one of the Council assistants orders to prepare for his immediate departure to the United States.  He also gave them a short message to send to both Buffalo and Arizona.

            _To N.H. and M.D.___

_            Council team dispatched from __England__._

_            Maintain positions._

_            Await further instructions._

_            -- Q.T._


	21. Chapter Twenty: Random Morning Conversat...

Chapter Twenty:

            The next morning, Henry and the Professor stepped out of the medical bay quietly as the door slid closed behind them.  Henry smiled reassuringly to the three concerned faces in the hall, though he still looked perplexed by his new patient's condition.  He had spent the night in the medical bay to monitor Mary's condition, should her violent symptoms reappear, but had found no medical cause for them.

            "How is she?" Storm asked quickly.

            "She's fine for now," Henry said, sounding frustrated, "She's sleeping.  With anyone else, I would say she fainted, maybe a bit overwhelmed and exhausted by her trip today, but the Professor was explaining to me how her mutation seems to affect her in the same way.  I'm afraid I won't know more until she wakes up.  For now, her vitals and brain functions are normal...I think a nice long rest will do wonders.  Although, I would like to examine her medical history, if we have received it..."

            Scott shook his head, "No, not yet.  We usually request it weeks before a candidate arrives but her decision to come was made so quickly...I'll try to have them faxed straight to us today or tomorrow."

            Henry nodded, with an amused smile, "Or next week...or next month.  Never can tell with the new confidentiality regulations regarding mutants..."

            "In the meantime," Xavier said, "_You_ need some rest yourself, Henry.  Bobby or Rogue can monitor the girl until she wakes..."

            Henry chuckled, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes at the top of his nose.

            "Sounds like a good idea," he replied, "Besides, I have a cot set up in the lab's office...just in case of late night patients.  As soon as Mary's up, I'll be up."

            "Fine," Xavier said, "If you need any assistance, we'll be down the hall."

            Henry nodded, and yawned widely before returning to the medical bay.  Xavier sent a call to Rogue and Bobby to assist the doctor, before turning to others.

            "Logan, do you have the video and papers from Colorado?" Xavier asked.  Logan nodded and withdrew two parcels from his jacket.  The video had been wrapped securely in a plastic bag to prevent the exposed tape from being damaged further and the recovered documents had been packed as neatly as possible in a large manila envelope.

            "Let's go see what the computer can salvage from them," Xavier said, leading the others on to another unmarked silver door.

***

            Rogue sat in the kitchen eating breakfast quietly after most of the other students had finished.  She was studying from an advanced chemistry book, pausing every now and then to make a note or highlight a sentence from the text.  It was not the most fascinating subject in the world, but she had an exam with Dr. McCoy next week and had been using every spare moment to prepare for it.

            Bobby had volunteered to take the first watch over the new student, and Kitty and Jubilee refused to study on a weekend, so she was left to suffer alone.  If it had not been for the donuts her friends had smuggled in for her, she would have been much more upset at having to spend such a beautiful morning stuck in a textbook.  She sighed and considered taking her studies outside when Kurt appeared suddenly in the room.

            She grinned as the smoke settled, noticing that he was still bundled up and hooded from his trip to church.  Despite the dangers of being recognized as a mutant in public, Kurt still attended mass every Sunday, never letting the possible ridicule of a few keep him from his faithful practice.

            He usually teleported back inside the mansion when he reached home, saving him the long trek up the driveway.  Kitty laughed when Rogue questioned Kurt about that, saying they had evolved beyond the use of doors and walls, just as Logan had evolved beyond the use of a can opener.  Rogue had been annoyed at Kitty's analogy, until she visualized Logan growling viciously at a stubborn can of tuna.

            "Good morning," Kurt said cheerfully to her, pushing back his hood with a sigh of relief.  With the days getting warmer, he was going to have to find a different disguise, or try attending church without one.

            "Hey, Kurt," she said, "Powdered and chocolate covered here if you want one..."

            He shook his head with mock sadness, "No, but thank you.  I've given up dessert foods for Lent."

            "Oh, sorry," Rogue replied, "I'll buy you a whole box for Easter to make up for it."

            Kurt chuckled, then sat down and frowned curiously, "What are you reading?"

            "Homework," Rogue sighed, "Tryin' to get some work in before takin' over for Bobby.  He's helping Dr. McCoy with the new student."

            "Oh, I see," Kurt said softly.  He had said a prayer for the sick girl at mass, it was sad that her first hours here had to be so difficult.  It reminded him of his own introduction to the X-Men.

            "Did they tell you what her gifts were?" Kurt asked, and Rogue nodded.

            "Precognitive, they think," she said, "Like she can see the future..."

            Kurt's eyes widened as he considered the possibility as Rogue continued.

            "Storm said they're not sure though," she said.

            "Sounds like it would be quite a burden," Kurt replied, "Always knowing what will happen..."

            _Not as much of a burden as other mutations_, Rogue thought, flexing one gloved hand and glancing at Kurt's heavy hooded coat, unable to think of a reason that seeing the future could be a bad thing.  If Rogue had known about her mutation before it appeared, she might have kept her first boyfriend out of the hospital.  There was a touch of bitterness in her thoughts, a chill that had recently been dampening her typically affable attitude. 

            Kurt noticed the distance in her face and decided to try to change the subject.

            "The doctor said Blink's arm was not broken," he said with a grin, "I heard he's playing umpire today..."

            Rogue blinked and returned his smile, shaking off the shadow for now in deference to her friend.  

            "Why don't we go watch the game again?" she suggested, "Just in case he makes a bad call for Siryn.  I need to get some sunshine anyway..."

Author's note:  Sorry for abrupt end.  Didn't have time to move onto next "Random Morning Conversation."  Terrible title too… *sigh*  It's very late right now… ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ


	22. Chapter TwentyOne: More Questions Than A...

Author's note and Disclaimer:  As I pull more crossovers into this story, I'll restate that I own none of them.  These are just my own ramblings and expression in appreciation for stories and movies I've enjoyed.  (Next SK's The Dark Tower book comes out in four days! Hooray!)  I just want to see what happens when they're all thrown into the blender and someone hits 'purée.'  Dammit...now I want a milkshake...

Chapter Twenty-One:

            "Systems Operations Incorporated," Xavier said as he stared down at the aged document, "That is a name I have not heard in a long time..."

            The Professor tapped his fingers on the armrest of his wheel chair.  He was examining the paper under a large projection lamp, which also scanned the information into the computer for further analysis.  Logan stood to his left with his arms folded across his broad chest.  Scott and Storm were sitting at opposing consoles, tapping quickly at their keyboards. 

            "So...you know what it is then?" Logan asked with a deep frown, "That place I found, you've heard of it before..."

            "Oh, yes," Xavier replied, "As would any stock market investor from twenty-five or thirty years ago.  It was a corporation that specialized in chemical and plastics manufacturing...at least, to the public.  It was widely suspected that the company also developed and sold weapons...and not _only_ to the American government."

            "What kind of weapons?" Logan asked, flexing one hand and feeling the metal blades against the bones of his wrist.  Xavier turned his chair and glanced up at him.

            "Human weapons..." he replied honestly, and then explained, "Fifty years ago, the government created a new branch called the Department of Scientific Investigations.  Its primary purpose was for the advancement of scientific research in all fields from medical to aviation.  However, as the 'mutant phenomenon' began to gain public interest, a new facility was built specifically for studies of the human mind.  Its nickname was the SHOP..."

            Scott frowned and glanced at the Professor, "I thought that was an urban legend...the only place I've ever heard about the SHOP was on those late night 'unexplained mysteries' shows..."

            Xavier nodded knowingly, "A public perception that was purposefully created.  When the SHOP facilities were destroyed, which was nearly forty years ago, the evidence of what had once been happening there was quickly disposed of, and what better place to hide the truth but in an 'urban legend.'  Common public knowledge but not publicly believed."

            "What _did_ happen there, Professor?" Storm asked.

            "Essentially," Xavier explained, "The scientists there discovered a chemical that activated a dormant mutant gene, typically enhancing it to a point that use of one's abilities actually deteriorated the mind itself.  They called it the 'Lot Program,' and began with twelve test subjects, all of which eventually went mad or were killed..."

            "And what does this 'SHOP' have to do with the documents I found?" Logan interrupted quickly.

            "After the SHOP was destroyed," Xavier continued, "The 'Lot Program' was abandoned...until certain individuals associated with Systems Operations realized how lucrative the development of human weapons could be...especially considering how quickly governments around the world were searching for ways to control the 'mutant problem.'  What better way to deal with mutants but with their own powerful mutant weapons."

            Logan let out a disgusted and angry sigh and paced around the room.  The memories of his fight with the clawed woman at Alkalai Lake floated through his mind.  Mutant weapons...how many others were there?

            "Why would they continue the program if all the original subjects died?" Storm asked, a strange coldness filling her eyes.

            "Because the 'Lot Program' was not considered a failure," Xavier said darkly, "The subjects did show enhanced mental abilities and some did live past the original experiment..."

            "Is this still going on?" Logan interrupted again, and Xavier was patient with the man's anger, "Is this company still doing this 'Lot' shit?"

            Xavier shook his head, "No, not for at least twenty-five years, as is evident by the facility you found, Logan.  The Systems Operations main offices were destroyed in a similar manner as the SHOP facilities.  After that, there were very few organizations, whether through government or private funding, interested in developing living mutant weapons."

            "How was it destroyed?" Logan asked.

            "By fire," Xavier replied, "A very controlled, very purposeful fire."

            "By a mutant..." Storm said quietly.

            "Yes, I believe so..." Xavier said.

            "Where did you learn all this, Professor?" Scott asked, "How come you've never told us about this?"

            Xavier smiled sadly, "I learned about the 'Lot Program' about thirty years ago...when I worked with an _old friend_ of mine in England."

            "Magneto?" Logan asked firmly, wanting to confirm who Xavier's 'old friend' was.

            Xavier nodded, "Yes.  When Erik and I were younger, we were associated with a watch group of a sort, which was based in London.  There, we were able to monitor the increasing rate of mutant activity around the world and locate those in danger.  It was there that we developed the first prototype for Cerebro."

Xavier glanced around at the others, who were watching him intently.

"With that prototype," he continued, "I located the signature of a very powerful mutant traveling through the middle of the United States.  When Erik and I were sent to meet this young woman, we began discovering the truth about the SHOP and the 'Lot' experiments.  After she told us her story, she disappeared, and I have never been able to locate her again.  Erik was so disturbed by her revelations that he tried to convince our 'Council' to take action against those organizations who were using mutants unwillingly in such a horrific manner."

Xavier looked down sadly, "However, they refused to interfere with anything associated with the 'mutant phenomenon,' considering it not to be of their concern or their responsibility..."

"I guess that didn't sit well with Magneto," Scott replied.

"Indeed," Xavier agreed, "To say he was _dissatisfied_ with their response would be quite an understatement."

Storm frowned and shook her head, "But, you said you learned all this from a young woman..."

"Yes," Xavier said, "She was barely twenty when I met her..."

"So, say she's in her late-thirties or early forties now," Storm continued, "How did she know so much about what had happened at the SHOP?  She would have only been a child when it was destroyed..."

Xavier sighed, "Because her parents were two of the original test subjects of the 'Lot Program.'  As far as I know, she is the sole living product of those experiments..._if _she is still alive..."

"And she had her own gifts?" Scott asked and Xavier nodded.

"Oh, yes," he said, "Extremely powerful gifts...which she was learning to repress due to their destructiveness."

"And they were after her..." Logan said, "Right?  That's why she ran again..."

Xavier nodded solemnly, "First, the SHOP, then Systems Operations.  She was a weathered traveler for one so young, and I don't think even Erik could have kept her from running again."

            "And you have no idea where she might be?" Logan asked.

            "None," Xavier replied, "As I've said, the project was abandoned by all those involved and it's been nearly twenty-five years since our first and only meeting."

            Logan frowned, "Could it be possible...that someone is looking for her again?"

            Xavier looked at Logan curiously, wondering what had prompted the question.

            "Back at that compound," Logan continued, "It looked like somebody had been there before me.  Recently.  Doors smashed in, the file room had been torn apart, most of the equipment destroyed, but by the way the rest of the place looked I don't think it was done by the ones who worked there.  Nothing else looked like it had been touched."

            Xavier frowned thoughtfully, "I suppose it is possible.  Was there any thing that could have given proof as to whom had been there?"

            "Yeah," Logan said, and then sighed (which sounded like a quiet growl) before speaking again, "The walls...the _metal_ walls...looked like they had been clawed..."

            He clenched his fists before continuing.

            "...five clean marks...like Stryker's _personal assistant_ back at Alkalai Lake."

            Scott raised his eyebrows but his face was grim, "You mean that woman who attacked me at Magneto's cell?  Do you think it could be her?"

            Logan scoffed rudely, but spoke softly, "Only if it was a ghost..."

            Xavier gazed at him intently, knowing enough of what happened to Logan in Stryker's base to understand what he meant.  But, was it possible she survived both the fight with Logan and the flood?  It did seem impossible.  However, she had possessed the same healing powers as Logan.  Could it be her...or could there be still others more who were also subjected to Stryker's experiments?

            "How long ago would you say the previous break in had occurred?" Xavier asked.

            Logan shrugged, "Only a month or two, but the scent was faint..."

            "Could it have been prior to the events of eight months ago?" Xavier asked.

            "No," Logan replied and then repeated thoughtfully, "No, these marks were newer than that."

            Xavier sat for a moment in silent thought, considering the possibilities carefully.  The others waited respectfully for his response.

            "Well," he began, "Let's wait and see what we restore from the video and what other information the computer can give us about these documents.  I won't make assumptions about any possible threats this situation may incur without more solid facts.  However, I do believe, given the history behind that facility, this does warrant our further investigation.  If there is someone out there looking to reinitiate the 'Lot Program,' we must find out who it is…and why."

            "How long do you think that'll take?" Logan said and Storm shrugged.

            "It's hard to tell," She replied, "There's not much film here that hasn't been exposed or damaged.  Give me a few hours and then check back in…"

            Logan nodded, and turned back to Xavier.  A sudden change came over Logan's face, the hard, angry glare fading into a calm, almost pleasant grin.  

            The pair headed out into the hall and back towards the elevator, leaving Scott and Storm to decipher Logan's discoveries.

            "How's the kid been?" he asked and Xavier smiled.

            "She's been doing very well," the Professor replied, "She's become quite an active member of the team.  She's been working with Storm and Dr. McCoy regularly.  I think the other students have begun to see her as more of an adult instead of a peer."

            "Yeah," Logan said, "Well, she's been through more than most adults."

            "Very true," Xavier replied, "I think working with the younger students has helped her recapture some of that lost innocence.  However, I believe she's permanently absorbed your temper."

            Logan chuckled, "I'm glad she got my best quality."

            They reached the elevator, and, as Logan stepped inside, Xavier threw him one last glance.

            "By the way," he called with amusement, "When you see Rogue or Bobby, let them know…their uniforms will be coming in next week."

            Logan grinned again and nodded, figuring both of the kids would be glad to hear those were arriving sooner than he had predicted.


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo: What Will Be

Chapter Twenty-Two:

_Mary was lost in a dream._

_It was dark, long after sunset, yet the sky was alight with flame._

_She stood a distance away from the fire, but she knew what was burning._

_And she knew who had been the cause of the flame._

_A giant bird of fire rose up._

_At its heart, the shape of a soaring human figure shone fiercely red._

_The winged creature flew down, rejoining the fire below..._

_Then, the vision stopped...just as quickly as it had begun.._

_Nothing more was shown to her...only that lingering, haunting voice..._

_...you have a world of work ahead of you..._

***

            Mary blinked as she opened her eyes against the bright lights in the ceiling.  Her head was pounding, and protested as she tried to sit up.  Before she was able to struggle upright, a face appeared by her bed.  She could only stare for a moment, as the mutant looked down at her, his face covered in thick blue hair smiling pleasantly.

            "Good morning, miss," the mutant said softly, "How are you feeling?"

            _Xavier's_, Mary thought quickly, _I'm at the school for mutants._

            "I'm..." she said, then coughed before continuing, "My head hurts..."

            The mutant nodded, "I imagine so.  That spell you had was quite intense."

            "Am I still at the school?" she asked.

            "Yes," the mutant replied, "You're in the medical bay.  I'm Dr. Henry McCoy...I've been told your name is Mary.  Right?"

            He grinned again as Mary nodded, his eyes beaming warmly at her coherent questions.  Mary then realized he was wearing a long white overcoat and white medical scrubs.  She looked away quickly, not wanted to be rude by staring, gaped-mouthed at the doctor.

            "How long have I been here?" she asked, looking worried and embarrassed at the inconvenience she may have caused her new hosts.  

            Dr. McCoy smiled sympathetically, "Only since last night.  It's just about three o'clock in the afternoon now, if my watch is right...which it _usually _is..."

            He threw her an amused wink before he continued.

            "Actually," he said, "I've been napping down here myself.  I woke up a little while ago and was working in the office when I heard you stirring."

            "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry if I've been a bother..."

            "Not at all," McCoy replied, "It's my job, after all, to make sure you're all safe and healthy.  And I do have a few questions for you, but that can wait until after you've had some more rest and maybe a bite to eat."

            Mary suddenly sat up and glanced around quickly, "My Nana...my grandmother, I mean.  I have to call her and let her know I'm alright...she'll be worried sick..."

            "The Professor contacted her this morning," McCoy ensured her, "And as soon as you feel well enough to walk, I'll show you where the phone is."

            The man's voice had a constantly cheerful and confident tone, which Mary instantly liked.  His manner was the perfect combination of casual and professional, somehow looking serious and amused at the same time.  He patted her hand reassuringly, and she noticed his arms were also covered with the same dark blue hair, which did not have the texture of fur but of regular human hair.

            "I think I'm ok to stand up," she said and, with McCoy's assistance, rose steadily to her feet.  McCoy looked pleased but scrutinized her carefully as she walked, looking for any sign of wavering or shakiness to her steps.

            "Wonderful!" he exclaimed after a moment, which made Mary start in surprise, "But the instant you begin to feel weak again, young lady, I want you to sit down _immediately_."

            "Yes, sir," she said with a touch of sarcasm that made McCoy chuckle.

            "Well," he said, "The phone is in the office there.  I think I'll call up to the Professor to let him know you're awake.  Hmm...though he is telepathic...I wonder if he already knows...I'll have to ask him about that..."

            Dr. McCoy spoke ponderingly to himself as he wandered to the other side of the lab and Mary grinned.  Then, a darkness touched her face as the memory of the vision came back to her.  She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

            "Dr. McCoy..." she called quickly, and he turned around, "Could you...I need to talk to Professor Xavier...If you could let him know, whenever he gets a chance..."

            "Of course," he replied, "I'm sure he'll want to see you right away anyway..."

            "Thanks," she said and went to call her grandmother in private.

            A short while later, Mary still sat alone in Dr. McCoy's office, after she had finished speaking with her grandmother.  She leaned her chin on one palm and stared at the floor, deep in thought.

            She knew what she had seen, she was positive (at least fairly positive) that she had been watching this school burn.  But she was not sure if she should tell Xavier the exact details of the vision.  What if she was wrong, and she caused a panic here for nothing?  What if she was right, and she said nothing and a real tragedy occurred?  And why had everything before and after the moment the school was on fire been so uncertain...so unclear...?

            Mary sighed with frustration and rubbed one temple with her fingertips.  The pain in her head had become a little less than a dull ache, for which she was grateful, but still made it difficult to think clearly.

            There was a quiet tapping on the office door and she turned to see Xavier just outside the room.  Mary grinned but once again felt a little embarrassed at what had happened the night before.  She truly did hope the Professor would help her learn to better manage her visions.  She could not be collapsing everywhere around the mansion every time she saw something.

            "Hi," Mary said.

            "Hello, Mary, how are you feeling?" Xavier asked, and Mary chuckled.

            "I'm ok," she replied grinning, "I'm gonna get asked that a lot today, aren't I?"

            "Probably," the Professor said with a laugh, "But, don't worry, I'll spread the word to the others that you're well."

            "Great, thanks," Mary said, and then paused with a frown.  She had so much to ask him, and had no idea where to begin.  Thankfully, Xavier began first.  He moved his wheelchair up to where she was sitting and folded his hands thoughtfully.

            "I suppose we witnessed one of your visions last night, correct?"

            Mary nodded, "Yeah, loads of fun, aren't they?"

            Xavier waited for her to continue, a practiced patience. 

            "There not always that bad," she said, "Usually I just get dizzy for a second and then just _know_ what's going to happen next.  It's only when I really _see_ something...when I _go somewhere else_...that I get really sick."

            "And last night," Xavier said, "You saw something?"

            Mary hesitated, glancing between the Professor and the floor.  

            "Yeah..." she began, "I did...um...I saw...

            Mary paused, and frowned.

            _The cup..._ she thought quickly and glanced at the top of the file cabinet near the door.  There was a coffee mug on the top, and Mary stared at it for a few moments before the Professor's voice drew her back.

            "Mary?" he said with concern and she shook her head and looked back at him. 

            "I'm...sorry..." she said, "What was I saying?"

            Xavier spoke calmly, "We were discussing your vision last night.  Is it making you uncomfortable?"

            Mary shook her head, "No...no...I'm sorry...Right...what I saw...it was...I don't really know how to describe it but it was..."

            _The cup..._ the words rang in her head, and she again glanced at the coffee mug.  Xavier watched her with growing apprehension as her eyes seemed to become dreamy and distant.

            "Mary," he repeated, more forcefully than before, and the girl once again met his gaze.

            "I'm sorry," she said, "What was I saying?"

            "Mary, are you sure you're alright?" Xavier asked, calling for Henry McCoy telepathically for assistance.

            _Henry, please come into the office.  I think Mary is slipping off again._

            "The vision!" Mary said loudly, "I was telling you about the vision...it's important...you won't like it but I have to tell you..."

            _The cup...the cup...the cup..._ Mary thought over and over, staring at the mug intensely.  

            Xavier tried once again to reach her mind but, as during her attack the previous night, it was as if she was not there.  He could hear Henry's heavy footsteps approaching the room and moved his chair away from the door.  Mary's eyes were wide, staring at apparently nothing, a terrifying absence of presence in her face.

            _The cup,_ she thought one last time, _The cup's going to break...the pieces will fall all over the floor, little white shards of glass, because he's moving fast and doesn't realize yet how strong he is...when he opens the door..._

            Xavier gasped in shock as Mary leapt from her chair.  She moved quickly towards the door, towards the filing cabinet, and reached out with one arm as the office door swung open with a crash.

            Henry appeared in the open doorway, and had slammed the door accidentally against the cabinet where his empty coffee mug was sitting.  It wobbled, and then fell towards the floor.  

            But, it never hit the ground.  It did not break, or crack, or shatter, because it landed safely in Mary's outstretched hand.  

            "Professor, what..." Henry began, but paused as Xavier raised a halting hand.

            Xavier stared at the girl silently, watching as Mary examined the mug in her hand with strange wonder.  She was running her fingers along the white ceramic surface, cradling it almost protectively.

            "Mary…" Xavier said again, and watched as the life seemed to run back into the girl's body.  She jumped, startled by his voice, and looked around with surprise.

            "What…what's going on?" she asked.  One minute she had been sitting in the chair near the desk, the next she was crouching on the floor with the two men staring at her in with slightly panicked expressions.  Mary looked down and sighed, recognizing their confusion all too well.

            "It happened again, didn't it?" She asked, getting quickly to her feet.  She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and turned away from the others.

            Xavier and Henry exchanged glances, as Mary laughed unpleasantly and sat back down in the desk chair, placing the intact mug unceremoniously aside.

            "It won't stop…it just _won't stop_…" Mary said and then began to sob.  Xavier moved his chair next to hers and placed one hand on her shoulder.  She lifted her head to look at the Professor, her face desperate and utterly exhausted.

            "What can _you_ do?" she asked through her tears, "What can _anyone_ possibly do to help me?  There's nothing I can do to stop it.  It's just like the future…it can't be stopped and it can't be changed.  There is no hope for anything better.  All there is…is suffering.  Mine and everyone else's…"

            _There are ways we can help you…_ Xavier said to her, in her mind, _Just because we can't see what you see, doesn't mean we can't see you.  The future is only what we make it._

            Mary inhaled sharply as Xavier's thoughts rang through her mind and the Professor looked at her with unwavering conviction.  Mary breathed slowly, gaining some composure before looking again at Xavier.

            "I saw the mansion burning, Professor," she said firmly, "You wanted to know what I saw last night…I saw the mansion burning.  That's your future…and it can't be changed…"

            Xavier did not react initially, but glanced over at the ceramic mug Mary had so quickly forgotten.  

            "What happened just now?" he asked, and she shrugged.

            "I saw the cup break…" she said, "When Dr. McCoy came into the room…he hit the cabinet and broke the cup…"

            "I see…" the Professor replied, "Are you sure that's what happened?"

            "Well, yeah…" she said almost angrily, "That's what I saw, wasn't it?  The cup broke and…"

            Before she could finish, Mary sat up quickly, leaning back in the desk chair, closing her eyes.  Henry moved forward, expecting another attack to hit her, but she shook her head.

            "I'm fine…" she said, "But…"

            Mary opened her eyes and turned her head toward Xavier.

            "Professor…I think you should go upstairs…"

            Xavier frowned, "Why…?"

            The intercom on the doctor's desk interrupted him, and Rogue's voice filled the room.  She spoke calmly, Xavier could tell she was a little nervous.

            "Professor?" she called, "Are you still down there?"

            "Yes," he replied, "I'm here.  What's going on?"

            "There's a man here to see you," she said, "He says it's urgent.  He's come the whole way from England."

            Xavier took a moment before responding.  England?  He sensed through the house and realized quickly who their guest was.  But why were they here now…after all these years?

            "I'm on my way…have him wait in my office," he replied and the intercom buzzed off.

            Henry was by Mary's side, lifting her chin with one hand and clicking a small light on and off into her eyes.  Mary sat patiently as the worried doctor worked, the chaos that had briefly existed within her gone as quickly as it had arrived.

            Xavier moved his chair around the desk, picking up the white mug and pausing by Mary's side one more time.  The girl looked sad and apologetic, and also very tired.

            "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, "I didn't want to tell you, but I had to.  You don't know how many times I've tried to stop things from happening…but I never can.  I don't even know why the school is burning…I can't see _why_ it happened or _how_ it happened…just that is _will happen_…

            "Perhaps," Xavier said slowly, "You can't see the path…because _you can change it_…"

            He handed her the ceramic mug, and Mary took it with dumb shock.  She looked quickly up at the cabinet, then at the floor, then at the mug, and finally returned her gaze to the Professor.  She had seen this mug break, she had seen the pieces scattered on the floor, and yet, here it was, in her grasp and completely intact.

            "But…it broke," she said softly, "It always breaks…every time…"

            "There is hope, Mary Sloane," he said firmly, "Your hand stopped _this_ from breaking.  _Your hand…_don't let yourself be lead into the future by anything else."

            Mary stared at the Professor in quiet wonder.  She had changed the future…was that really possible…?

            "If you'll excuse me," Xavier said, "I believe I have a guest to attend to."

            "Professor?" Mary said with glassy tears in her eyes, "Thank you."

            With one last reassuring smile, Xavier spoke the words he had said before to many mutants.

            "Welcome to the School for the Gifted."


	24. Chapter TwentyThree: Recovered Evidence

Author's Note:  I own nothing here except a computer and a copy of Microsoft word.  

In regards to possible romances, a certain Cajun keeps giving a certain southern girl the flirtatious eye, but he has to compete with an Iceman and a very protective (and clawed) Wolverine.  So, who knows when _that's_ gonna get sorted out.  

Plus a certain Nightcrawler keeps flashing in and out, but hasn't really settled into the plot yet (he said he doesn't like to hang around one story for too long, something about crazy fan girls following him, but don't ask me I'm just the author here and have no control over these characters, though if you DO ask me I think he likes the attention, being a former circus star and all).    

:-)

Chapter Twenty-Three:

            Storm, Scott and Logan stood before a large monitor, watching the salvaged pieces of the lost video play again and again.  There had only been a few minutes of actual, discernible footage that had survived the twenty or more years it had lie abandoned, and each clip only lasted a few seconds.  Yet, those brief glimpses of the past left the three X-Men in a mix of awe and bewilderment.

            "What the hell are we looking at?" Logan said, as the video flashed by in a confusing montage.

            Storm shook her head, staring wide-eyed at the screen, "I wish I knew…"

            As the grouping of clips began again, the image of a large white room reappeared before them.  An older, slightly balding man was standing with his hands behind his back, speaking to the camera.  The sounds were difficult to discern, but Logan was able to understand a few of the words.

            "Ok, we're back to this guy again…" he grumbled and frowned as he listened.

            "Can you make out anything else he's saying?" Scott asked.  

            Logan shook his head, "No…just what I heard before.  He's talking about the Lot experiments, then some crap about amino acids…then its all just dead air..."

            The scene flashed out and another image appeared.  This time it was of the same white room, but it was lined with beds, each containing a young man or woman in their late teens and early twenties.  By their hair and clothes, they had obviously been filmed at least forty years earlier, but the exact date on the bottom of the screen was illegible.  Among them was the same balding man, talking to them with a pleasant smile as nurses and medical staff prepared hypodermic needles.              

            As the footage again turned hazy, the video clips with any kind of clarity began to flash by quickly...and became much more disturbing.  The young men and woman in the hospital beds were in varying stages of chaos; some convulsing and shaking, some screaming, while other simply looked comatose or dead.

            Storm looked away as the footage played, not wanting to view the horrible images again.  Scott stared at the screen with a stony, grim frown and Logan was glaring angrily, a rage building as he stood witness to the suffering of so many people.  People who were barely old enough to vote...many probably the same age as Rogue...

            Finally, the last clip appeared again, and all three watched in quiet awe.  The footage had obviously been taped by a higher quality camera than the previous film, but still looked very old.  Looking out over a large, mostly empty room, the video showed a young girl, no more than eight or nine, standing with her hand clenched and her back to the camera.  She was looking at a ten-foot cinderblock wall lined with wires.  Her light blonde hair hung past her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple dress and small black shoes.  She could have been heading to school or to the playground, but it was obvious that she had not seen the sun in a long time.

            The little girl had not moved and did not seem to react at all as the cinderblock wall began to smoke.  Flames grew, sprouting from each brick, and quickly consumed the wall until it collapsed into a fiery pile at her feet.  The girl tilted her head slightly, and the camera followed her gaze to a tub filled with ice, which also burst into flames until the room was filled with steam.

            Before the video ended, the girl spun and looked up at the camera.  She was shouting something inaudible, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she was both angry and exhausted.  There was such a great sadness about her that each X-Man wondered what torture had caused her eyes to look so old when she was still so young.

            Storm stopped the footage before it could begin again, and Scott sighed heavily, sounding frustrated.  

            _Poor kid_, Logan thought, feeling a little pity amidst his fury.  

            "So," he said, "I ask again, what the hell are we looking at?"

            "It must be the first experiments," Storm said softly, "I wonder if they were human or mutants...they never really tell you."

            "Well, that kid was a mutant," Logan said, "Do you think that kid's the one the Professor and Magneto met?"

            "Must be..." Scott replied, "From what the video shows, she's a pyrokinetic, just like the woman they met.  That's an extremely rare gift..."

            "Isn't that what Pyro is?" Logan asked, and Scott and Storm exchanged sad looks at the mention of their former student.

            Scott shook his head, "No, John was different.  He couldn't start fires, he could just control it.  Fire manipulators are common among mutants, but there's never really been a documented 'firestarter' before."

            Logan pointed to the screen, "_There's_ your document, bub.  I'd say some kid blowing up a concrete wall is pretty strong evidence..."

            "It's not definite that there was no other source of fire in the room, though," Storm added thoughtfully, "We can't be sure she caused the fire herself."

            "It's a shame we can't find her and ask her," Scott said, "And if the Professor was never able to find her again, she may be dead.  What we should be really focusing on is finding out who may be trying to start these experiments again."

            "I think you're right," Logan said and Scott nodded, surprised by the other man's support.  Ever since Alkalai Lake, a strange truce had formed between them.  Neither man could resist throwing the occasional insult, but when working as X-Men, there was no sarcasm or bitterness, which Storm suspected was primarily because of their continuing respect for Jean Grey.

            "The papers you found, Logan, also talked about other test subjects," Storm said, "All children, but each with different abilities.  The latest entry listed was for 'Lot 23,' in which six subjects survived.  One says 'vocal sonic force,' which sounds a lot like Tracy.  Another says telekinesis, another mental domination...the list goes on like that.  Apparently the drug activated each mutant gene in a different way, just like the natural induction of mutation."

            "So, it worked," Logan said, "And make each kid a different kind of weapon...making mutants...like Stryker..."

            "But Stryker wasn't _making_ mutants," Storm stressed, "He simply used your mutation to change you.  His goal was destroying mutants...not making more."

            Scott frowned, "Maybe we should do a search on modern chemical and drug companies.  See if any of them have been expanding lately, maybe have Bobby hack into some of their fiscal information and see if any funds have been transferred to strange locations."

            "So, Iceman's a hacker now?" Logan said with an amused grin, "What are you guys teachin' these kids?"

            Storm smiled, "Modern technology survival skills.  The more they know about how you can break into someone's computer, the more they'll know about the kind of electronic blockades we have up here."

            Logan chuckled, "Maybe I'll have him buy my cigars on E-Bay.  Rusty's place is getting a little crowded with the some new faces."

            "I guess you met Gambit," Storm said, looking amused but annoyed at the same time.  She guessed Remy had been out drinking again when she saw him acting like a walking hangover this morning.

            "Is that the Cajun's name?" Logan asked, and when Storm nodded, he shook his head, "When did you guys start letting the guys like him in?"

            "I think it was right after you joined up," Scott said quickly before heading out of the lab, garnering a glaring smirk from Logan. 

            _Jean would have laughed at that,_ Storm thought sadly as Scott, then Logan left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts of the past.


	25. Chapter TwentyFour: Words Unspoken

Author's Note:  Does Xavier say 'indeed' too much?  I just always see him saying it in that great 'Patrick Stewart' voice.  Oh, well...

Chapter Twenty-Four:

            "Hello, Charles," Quintin Travers said with a smug, overly-polite grin, "It's been a long time, old friend."

            Xavier moved his chair closer to his guest, and shook Travers's hand with a smile.  They were in his office, and to Xavier's surprise, Travers had not been accompanied by his usual entourage of assistants.  

            "Hello, Quintin," he replied, "How have you been?"

            "I've been quite well," Travers said, and moved to sit as Xavier politely directed him to one of the tall guest chairs, "And, as always, very busy.  It looks as though your school is thriving."

            "Indeed," Xavier said, "We seem to have new students arriving all the time.  Most of our graduates have gone on to become quite successful in their chosen fields..."

            "You mean, the ones who don't choose to stay," Travers interjected quickly, almost harshly.

            Xavier frowned slightly, though never lost an inch of his composure.  Travers sighed and lowered his eyes apologetically.

            "I was saddened to learn of Jean's death," he said to Xavier, "She was a wonderful woman, and always very dedicated to you and her students."

            Xavier nodded, a forcibly polite smile forming on his face, "Thank you.  I know how highly you regarded her, Quintin.  She turned down quite a few lucrative positions the Council offered her.  I was privileged to have her as my student, and later as a teacher here, for so long."

            Travers nodded and smiled, but the coldness in his eyes was undeniable.  Xavier waited patiently for him to continue, knowing Travers well enough to catch his subtle invectiveness.  Xavier was not about to allow him to use any guilt he may harbor for Jean's death to throw him off his guard.

            "Yes, yes," Travers said finally, "I imagine it must have been especially difficult for the children..."

            "We have mourned together," Xavier said, "Just as we stay strong together."

            _Tell me why you are here, Quintin_, Xavier sent telepathically to the other man.

Travers grinned unpleasantly, "I suppose you've had some new additions to your staff..."

            _And one new student as of recently_, Travers added in his mind.

            "Yes," Xavier said aloud, "We were lucky enough to have Dr. Henry McCoy take over as head physician..."

            _Are you referring to the young lady from __Arizona__?_ Xavier sent back, _What__ interest does the Council have in her?_

            "Well, that's wonderful, Charles," Travers said, "He is a quite renowned doctor..."

            _That is none of your concern,_ he returned in thought, angrily.

            "I understand the Council has been quite busy with the situation in California," Xavier shot in, and Travers flinched as Xavier's sent a mental message along with it.

            _She is now my student, and is most definitely my concern._

            "That situation is well underhand," Travers said aloud, gritting his teeth.

            _She's been watched by the Council for much longer than she's been your student, Charles.  You know very well what our policy when someone interferes..._

            "Of course," Xavier said aloud, "The Council's methods are very effective."

            _And I am quite familiar with them, Xavier continued telepathically, _But___ I will not turn away someone who asks for my help._

            "How has Scott been coping with Jean's death?" Quintin said, his voice losing its polite tone, no longer masking his attempts to make Xavier falter.

            _We've seen what happens to those who receive your 'help.'_

            "He's been coping well," Xavier replied, "As have we all…"

            _Don't try these games with me, Quintin.  Just tell me what the Council wants with Mary and perhaps we can work together…_

            "Yes," Quintin replied aloud, "The Council also pulls together to work through their losses…"

            _Out of the question, he sent back._

            "It's important to work together," Xavier said, frowning.

            _Yet, she came to us_ for assistance.  How do you plan to help her?__

            "The Council has many facets that allow it to function as an autonomous body, dependent only on itself," Quintin said, with a sneer.

            _We have our own people to teach her, Charles.  And if you continue to harbor her here, we have people to reeducate_ you as well on Council policy…__

            "That is not always a benefit," Xavier said.

            _And what have you taught her so far? She's had this gift for a long time and no one has ever tried to help her understand it before now.  She's in possible physical danger from her gifts…_

            Quintin looked surprised by Xavier's last thought, and did not bother to maintain the verbal façade of conversation

            _We know of her ailments and we will attend to them, Travers thought,_  Don't___ belittle my intelligence, Charles._

            "_Then don't threaten my school, Quintin." Xavier replied aloud, resounding the words in both mind and voice, which would have made anyone else recoil at the intensity of the statement._

            Travers stood quickly, attempting to hide his alarm from Xavier, and began to storm out of the room.  Xavier watched him go with a cold glare, until Travers turned to face him again.  The smug arrogance on his face was full of bitter pride and anger.

            "She's not a mutant, Charles," he said almost viciously, "_That's_ why the Council is involved.  Do a DNA test yourself, if you must?  She does not have the mutant gene.  Yet, like other human beings in the Council, she possesses an unnatural gift, and we do not intend to allow a mutant interloper like yourself keep us from this child."

            Xavier narrowed his eyes, angrily.  Had he the ability to stand he would have towered over the other man, and still did in most ways.

            "Do you think that _really matters to me?" Xavier replied, "She has a gift that might be killing her, and you think I'm going to deny her help because of her genetics?  Yes, you would think that wouldn't you?  Since the Council can so easily brush mutants aside."_

            Xavier moved his chair closer to Travers and gazed at him intensely.  Travers met his stare and sneered as Xavier's thoughts filled his head.

            _Do you really expect any member of the Council to just walk into my school and take one of my students? Send who you will.  We'll know when you are coming, and we'll be ready for you when you're here.         _

            Travers laughed spitefully, "You're not Erik Lensherr, Charles.  Don't expect me to cower at your warnings.  Just remember…"

            _...We watch…and we wait…and we always know when the time for watching is over…_

            Xavier's cold glare slowly faded back into a strangely pleasant smile, and Travers frowned.

            "And we'll be waiting to greet you again," Xavier said, "Whether our next meeting is good…or ill…will be up to you."

            "Very well…" Travers said darkly, "Until next time, Professor Xavier.  Give my regards to your students…"

            Xavier followed Travers out to the front doors, and did not moved from the entrance until his expensive rented car was well past the school's front gates.  He rested his chin against one fist and frowned in deep thought.

            So, Mary was not a mutant.  That would explain why he had never been able to reach her with Cerebro.  She was a human precognitive, which may mean her powers originated by some artificial or supernatural means.  But, there were many such psychics and seers…why was Travers so vehement about Xavier's involvement with this young woman?

            Xavier sighed heavily, and then blinked in surprise as he noticed Melinda standing next to him, frowning with concern.  Her dark purple hair was tied back from her face, her sparkling silver eyes glistening curiously.  She was only ten, and easily the youngest student at the School.

            "Professor?" she said, "Are you ok?"

            Xavier smiled warmly, feeling quite touched at the child's innocent concern.

            "Yes," he replied, "I'm fine.  I've just had a very long day."

            "Oh," Melinda replied, and suddenly her expression changed to one of complete elation, the way only a child's can, "Do you want to see what I made today?"

            "Of course, what is it you made?" Xavier replied and turned away from the empty road, and back towards his school, lead along by one of many happy, once lost, children.


	26. Chapter TwentyFive: Chemistry

Chapter Twenty-Five

            The afternoon was fading into evening, and Remy was walking slowly around the grounds of the school, at the edge of the large lawn near a line of trees.  He was well rested, well fed, completely sober…and bored out of his mind.

            A group of students were playing basketball in the front court, and he could hear them laughing and chatting, enjoying the remainder of their weekend, before another dreaded Monday was upon them.  Other students were wandering around or hanging out in small groups, but Remy had not seen any of the adults in a few hours.  He guessed they were down in their 'top secret' labs doing whatever 'top secret' stuff that a 'top secret' mutant activist group does.  He had seen Kurt disappearing and reappearing around the mansion, keeping an eye on the kids while Storm and the others were wherever.  Remy figured they knew better then to ask _him to baby-sit._

            Fortunately, however, Remy had also not seen any sign of the cigar-smoking guy from last night.  He was not sure what the guy's deal was.  He did not really seem like the 'teacher' type…but then neither did Remy and they let _him_ stay.  Maybe he could just buy him a round one night at that little dive down the road and make up for the whole "calling-the-wolfie-guy-with-muttonchops-an-asshole" thing.

            Unfortunately, now that he thought about it, he had not seen Rogue today either.  She had completely brushed him off last night, and she was apparently dating the Ice kid, but that did not need to stop him from throwing a little Cajun mojo at her.

            Remy strolled on, shuffling his worn deck of cards lazily, and mostly looking at the ground.  He sighed and leaned over to pick up a few small stones.  He casually began to toss them into the trees, and thought about the training sessions Storm had arranged for him next week.  He was not sure whether or not he was looking forward to his turn in the Danger Room, but so far it sounded like the best bet he had at learning to control his gift.

            _Gift…he thought with frustration.  He held one of the stones between his thumb and forefinger and stared at it with a frown.  He let the small rock fall into his palm and he closed his fist around it.  _

            After a moment, he felt the stone growing warm in his grasp.  When he opened his fingers, it was illuminated with a dull light, and was quickly becoming brighter.  Remy waited, watching the stone surge with energy, as his eyes began to glow a deep red.  Finally, he threw it into the air a moment before it exploded.  

            The noise reverberated through the quiet landscape, and Remy glared at the whips of smoke left by the small blast.  

            _Gift, my ass, he thought and began the trick again.  He closed his fist around another stone, and a sudden voice made him turn around quickly._

            "Hey," Rogue called as she walked toward him, "Some people are tryin' to study around here."

            Remy grinned, broadly, as she approached.  She was dressed in a simple black shirt and pants, and wore a matching pair of long black gloves on her arms.  She was holding a large book against her abdomen, and Remy nodded apologetically.

            "Sorry about that, _chére," he replied, "I didn't mean to startle you."_

            Rogue frowned slightly as she noticed the strange glow in the man's eyes.  Then, she smirked and walked past him.

            "No harm done," she said, and did not turn as she spoke again, "But you might want to get rid of whatever you're holdin' onto…"

            Remy froze, and looked down at his fist in sudden panic.  He let the stone drop from his hand, and with a very ungraceful side step, barely avoided the much larger explosion.  He fell hard to the ground, and coughed as dust billowed up from a hole that had appeared where the rock had landed.

            He sat stunned for a moment, and then heard quiet laughter from behind him.  Remy rubbed his head, as the red light faded from his eyes.

            "_Merde," he said, "That was…a little…to close…to the merchandise…"_

            He heard Rogue laugh again, but this time she was standing next to him.  

            "Merchandise?" she said sarcastically, and Remy nodded.

            "I consider any part of my physical being to be valuable merchandise, _chére, that I have no interest in losing," Remy said with exaggerated solemnity, and then held his palms up and grinned, "Especially my hands..."_

            He glanced up and gave her an embarrassed shrug.  Rogue smirked again, and held out her own hand to the fallen man.  He took it gratefully and she helped him stand.

            Rogue watched him curiously as he dusted the dirt from his clothes, and noticed that some of his playing cards had spilled from his pocket.  She bent down, picked them up and Remy smiled appreciatively as he took them.

            "Maybe rocks aren't the best things to direct your powers into," she said as he shuffled the recovered cards back in with the others.

            "Yeah," he agreed, "I think you're right…I guess that's what I'm gonna learn in training, no?  What is best?  How to control this thing a little better?  How to keep my hands from blowing things up?  Find out…where _my energy is _best spent_?"_

            With the last few words, Remy flashed Rogue a flirtatious, but still cautious, grin.  He could not help but tease her, but he also did not want her to complain to her good friend the wolf-man about the 'overly friendly' Cajun.

            Rogue rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, but was still grinning in spite of herself.  She heard him following her but did not look back.  She figured his friendly bantering was just how he usually interacted with people (especially women), and since he was now in a place that lacked many people his age, he took every chance he could to get some adult conversation.

            She came to a long stone wall, a place under a row of small trees that flowered in the spring, where she liked to go when she need some quiet time.  Somehow, she doubted her little haven was going to be very quiet today.

            Rogue hopped gracefully onto the wall and sat with her legs crossed comfortably and the text book open in her lap.  Remy paused before he reached her, wondering if his continued presence would be an annoyance to the _belle_, but decided to risk any unpleasant reaction.

            He walked over to the wall and leaned casually against it close to where she sat.  The top of the wall reached a little past his waist and he rested his elbow on the stone surface, a few feet from where Rogue was sitting.  She gave him a passing glance and then directed her eyes back to the book.

            After a few peaceful, quiet moments (which were driving the bored Cajun insane), Remy sighed and looked over at Rogue curiously.

            "What are you studying?" he asked, not entirely interested in the topic as much as he was in engaging her in conversation.

            Rogue glanced up quickly, "Oh…um…chemistry…"

            Remy nodded, "_Oui…that's like mixing chemicals to see what happens or making potions…"_

            Rogue gave him an amused grin, "No, not quite.  It's organic chemistry.  More like, studying which chemicals in our bodies let us do what we can do."

            "_Oh," Remy said significantly, and then chuckled, "__That's what kind of science they teach here.  Chemistry…seeing what chemicals make us…_tick_…got it."_

            On the word 'tick,' Remy grinned broadly, almost obnoxiously, as he tried to get a reaction out of the girl.  Rogue rolled her eyes again and shook her head, but inwardly was still amused.  He may be annoying, but anything was better than studying right now.

            "No," she said, trying to sound serious, "We're studying how differences in body chemistry bring out different abilities in mutants."

            Remy sighed and his smiled faded, "Oh…personally I think the first topic sounded like much more fun…"

            For a few minutes, neither spoke, Rogue reading (or trying to read) and Remy drew out his cards again and began to shuffle.  Rogue was quickly learning that he did this when he was thinking.  The only sound around them was the rhythmic shuffle and snap of the deck, and Remy was frowning slightly.

            He was thinking again about the training session he was scheduled to have, and found that the idea made him more and more nervous.  These people actually wanted to have him blow things up so he could learn how _not to blow things up.  Sounded a little weird, but, hey, he was a mutant now, he was all about weird._

            "So, do you get to try out that Room with us?" Remy suddenly asked, and Rogue glanced up in surprise.  She shook her head and hesitated a moment before she replied.

            "Um…no, not right now," she said, fingering the corner of one page nervously.

            "Why is that?" Remy asked.  Rogue gave him a sharp glance, and took a deep breath before continuing.  She reminded herself that he was not being facetious; he had no idea what kind of powers she possessed.  She debated whether or not to explain to him, but decided it was better to be honest, considering he would most likely learn from another student what she could do if she did not tell him herself.

            "Well…" she began, meeting his gaze with quick, fleeting glances, "My powers…aren't exactly the kind the Danger Room can help with."

            "Oh…" Remy said, obviously still confused, but trying not to show it.  Rogue smiled apologetically for being so cryptic and continued.

            "You see…" she said, turning to face him a little more, "When I touch someone…anyone, with any part of my skin, I…I absorb their body's energy.  With mutants, I get a bit of their power for a little while and with regular people…well, they can be more badly hurt…"

            Remy was nodding as she spoke, and did not look the least bit disturbed by her revelation.  He regarded her curiously, not himself understanding why she was so shy to talk about her powers, but wanted to know more about them.  Truth be told, it was not just her power he wanted to learn more about, it was his own and everyone else's, but she was the one who was here now.

            "So," he said, "If you touched my arm or my hand, without your gloves…you would absorb my powers right out of me?"

            Rogue nodded, a strange mixture of sadness and bitterness on her face.  She expected him to back away, be afraid to be near her, but he just shook his head and sighed.

            "Sounds like you and me got similar problems, _chére_," Remy said, rotating the deck of cards in his hand slowly.  Rogue frowned and looked up at him with surprise.  That was not the reaction she had expected from him.

            "What do you mean?" she asked and Remy tilted his head in thought.

            "Hmm…" he said, "I guess it's more like we have _opposite _problems…"

            "Opposite problems?" she said questioningly and Remy nodded.

            "Well, yeah," he said, meeting her gaze with honest sincerity, "I gotta problem with energy coming out of me, you gotta problem with energy being pulled into you.  Kind of the same but different, no?"

            She stared at him blankly for a moment, and slowly realized he was right.  She had always considered her powers to be completely unlike every other mutant in the world, but really she just had a "reverse" of power.  A lot of mutants could draw energy out of themselves, like Cyclops or Bobby…or the man in front of her.  She simply drew energy in from elsewhere…not _entirely _unlike Storm, who drew her power from the environment around her.  A power that was still dangerous…but _not uncontrollable…maybe she was not so different after all…_

            As Remy looked over at her, he saw a strange smiled spread over Rogue's face.  She met his eyes, held them for a long moment, and Remy blinked in surprise at the intensity he found there, a new light that long been hidden from the world.

            Had the Professor been there, he would have given it a name.

            He would have called it hope.

            Rogue's smiled lit her face, as the world was growing dim around them.  She jumped down from the wall and stood a moment in front of Remy, looking up at him with gratitude.  

            "I…I think…you're right…" she said, and then smiled again, "Thanks…"

            Rogue ran off across the field, wanting to find the Professor…wanting to talk to Storm…wanting to tell Bobby most of all…that she found something inside of her she thought she had lost.  If the Professor had told her hope, she would have said he was right.

            As she headed toward the house, she left Remy standing utterly confused next to her forgotten text book.  He scratched the back of his head and frowned, not entirely unhappy but still disappointed at her departure.  He was not sure what he said to make her react like she did, but at least she looked happier.

            _That's right, LeBeau, he thought, with smug amusement as he strolled toward the house, _Way to brighten the day of a beautiful lady...just keep doing what you do best.  Maybe your luck _will__ improve…_

***

Author's Note: P.S. to Remy/Rogue fans – You asked for it…I know there's no bells and kisses yet, but who knows…this is only book one after all.   :-)  Of course, she did just run off to Bobby…


	27. Chapter TwentySix: Of Lost Keys and Text...

Chapter Twenty-Six:

            From the mansion's elevator, Henry McCoy ducked slightly as he stepped into the ground floor hall, followed quickly by his formerly unconscious patient.  Mary had recovered from her recent visions with an uncanny serenity, as if the seemingly traumatic event that had knocked her out cold had little other effect on her.  She seemed nervous now that she may finally be meeting some of the others, but otherwise was alert and chatting pleasantly with the doctor.

            "So, about how many other students live here?" she asked looked slightly upwards to meet Henry's grinning face.

            "Oh, about thirty or thirty-five, I think," Henry replied, strolling along next to her with his hands held behind his back.  

Mary noticed that his movements would occasionally become almost ape-like as he walked casually around the lab.  The motions were quiet natural, given his immense body shape and long arms, but whenever he was around others, he seemed to make a conscious effort to walk upright, forcing his body to march with unnatural stiffness.

            "Oh," she replied, and then added quickly, "Will they all be at dinner now?"

            Henry chuckled, but smiled sympathetically at the girl's anxiety.  From the way Scott had described it, she came from a town that probably only had about thirty people total, and now she was in a solitary, albeit large, house with over two dozen lively children.  

            "No, I don't think so," Henry replied, "I imagine most of them are already fed and off again, though some have been asking about you.  Any new student is met happily.  You're one more person in the world who's just like them..."

            Henry accompanied his very serious statement with a playful wink.

            "And they _love_ showing new arrivals _exactly_ what make them mutants."

            Mary smiled, "Big change from home.  Most people in my town were suspicious of new people.  Of course, considering I was the youngest person most of them saw every day...well, I'm not exactly the hyperactive type..."

            "For which I'm sure the Professor is very happy," Henry replied, "We rather count on the older students to set a good example for the younger students…"

            Mary paused in mid-step and Henry looked slightly back at her.

            Before he could ask her why she stopped, Rogue came running around from the other way, tearing through the mansion at full speed.  She skidded to a halt in surprise as she noticed them, and grinned.

            "Oh," Rogue said, breathing heavily, "Hi, Dr. McCoy…"

            Henry greeted her, and she frowned curiously at the girl next to him before continuing.

            "Are you Mary?" she asked and when the girl nodded, she held out one gloved hand, "Hi…I'm Rogue.  How're you feelin'?"

            Mary blinked in surprise and then grinned, "Ok, thanks.  I'm sorry if I scared anyone last night."

            Rogue's eyes darkened a bit as she glanced between Mary and Henry, "You didn't.  We're sort of on guard all the time since…well, before what happened a few months ago.  Besides, the Professor sent us all a message that everything was under control…and we had a little _extra_ security come into town last night too."

            Rogue began to smile as she finished speaking.  The expression was warm, but also held a strange, almost intimidating, pride.  For a second, Mary thought she looked a lot like the man Logan she had encountered only briefly the night before.  Not a clear kinship, but as if Rogue held almost an echo of Logan behind her eyes.

            As quickly as it was there, the look faded and her cheerful mood reappeared.

            "Storm said you're in one of the single rooms in the east wing," Rogue said, almost as a question to which Mary shrugged.

            "_I haven't actually _been_ there yet," Mary replied, "But I hear my luggage thinks the room has a great view…"_

            Rogue grinned, "Well, view or not…it's better than the student dorms, believe me.  Bobby and I got upgraded to our own rooms last winter so we'll be right down the hall."

            Mary narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head, as if she was listening to an unheard whisper.

            "He's there now…" Mary said quietly and then added quickly, "At least…that's where you'll find him when you find him…"

            Rogue stared at her a moment with some confusion.  Henry gave both girls a sideways grin and shook his head with polite amusement.  

            "Oh, was that…" Rogue began, looking up towards the stairs and then back to Mary before continuing, "That's what you can do…so you _are _precognitive?"

            Mary nodded, looking a little embarrassed, her raven dark hair hiding part of her face.

            "I'm sorry," Mary said, "I…I do that without thinking about it.  Back in town, people sort of just expected me to tell them where they would find something or when they would meet who they were looking for…"

            "_Were you looking for Bobby, Rogue?" Henry asked, entering the conversation for the first time.  _

            Rogue nodded, "Yeah…I was…"

            Suddenly, Rogue nudged Henry with one gloved elbow.

            "Maybe she can help you find your keys next time, Doc," she said, and McCoy chuckled but seemed to be seriously considering Rogue's suggestion.  

            Mary felt a strange relief run through her.  The unexpected ease at which they accepted what she could do was a pleasant surprise.  

            Though she had spoken about how her townspeople would expect Mary to know things, she did not add that those same people were usually afraid of her at the same time.  Even the Elders, who had traditions of invoking visions of the future, would systematically ignore her gift, and her questions about it.

            "Do you mind showing me where my room is?" Mary asked, and then added, "I mean…if you _are going upstairs…which you don't have to but…"_

            "Come on…" Rogue said, "I'll introduce you to Bobby too before dinner.  It really won't take you long to get to know everybody...see you in a bit, Doc…"

            "Take your time…" he called as they walked away, "The longer you make the hours of a Sunday evening, the longer you make the time until your chemistry exam!"

            Rogue paused remembering her forgotten text out on the lawn.  Mary knew the other girl was ready to go looking for it, and decided she did not need to disguise her power anymore.

            "Don't worry…" she said to Rogue, "The man with the cards brings it back into the house.  He'll leave it on the table near the steps."

            Rogue looked back at her, "Oh…ok…"

            Mary glanced back at Henry with a mimic of his sideways grin, "Oh, and Dr. McCoy?  They're in the inner left pocket…"

            Rogue laughed as Henry pulled a jingling set of keys from his lab coat and scratched his head.  She spun around to Mary and gave her a wicked grin.

            "So…can you tell me _how I do on that chem. test?" she asked, and Mary laughed._

            "Now, what fun would that be?" Mary replied, and followed Rogue up the steps.

            Henry could hear Rogue presenting Mary with her reasons why _it would be fun_ to know her future grade (and the future answers to future exam questions), as they disappeared around the corner on the second floor.  Henry McCoy spun his keys on his fore finger and whistled happily as he walked away.

            About ten minutes later, Remy enters the hall with a chemistry textbook under his arm.  He puts it down on the table near the steps, figuring that Rogue will see it there when she comes by.


	28. Chapter TwentySeven: Answers Among the ...

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

            Professor Charles Xavier was sitting on the back balcony of his office, so deep in thought he barely moved as Logan walked up next to him and leaned against one waist-high stone railing.  Xavier was leaning his head against his right hand, two fingers touching his temple and his jaw resting against his palm.

            Logan folded his arms and waited patiently for Xavier to acknowledge him.  The few silent moments that passed before Xavier spoke did not offend Logan.  The Professor, he knew, was well aware of the presence in the room, but Logan also knew the man would speak when he was ready, and not before.

            There was obviously a great deal troubling the Professor, and Logan figured it had something to do with the visitor this afternoon.  Logan could still detect the scent of the other man, who had been wearing expensive cologne that did not entirely disguise the scent of emotions beneath it…a mixture of contempt and fear.

            Unfortunately, what Logan had to discuss with the Professor was not about to ease Xavier's mind.  

            "What did you find on the tape?" Xavier finally said, without glancing up.

            "We're not sure…" Logan began, staring out over the mansion's grounds as Xavier was, "It was definitely video of some kind of experiments, but there's no way to tell what exactly they were doing."

            Xavier nodded thoughtfully, "Were there twelve?  In the experiment, I mean…"

            "Yes," Logan relied, "Footage must be almost fifty years old from the way they're dressed…"

            "They were given injections?" Xavier asked.

            "Yes," Logan replied, "And it doesn't look like they reacted too well with whatever they were stuck with…"

            Xavier nodded, and Logan waited for the next question.  He had learned quickly that Xavier's questions typically contained the answers.

            "And…" the Professor said, "Could you understand anything Dr. Wanless was saying?"

            "Dr. Wanless?" Logan asked, and Xavier turned his chair to look at him.  Answers in the questions…

            "You mean the guy who did the introduction…" Logan said, "Yeah, some of it.  Definitely talking about 'lot' something but the audio was pretty much gone.  You know about that guy, Professor?"

            Xavier sighed, and rubbed his temple.

            "Yes…unfortunately," he replied, and looked up at Logan, "Remember what I was saying about the young woman who could start fires?  Her parents were two of the twelve subjects of Dr. Wanless on that tape.  I actually had met Wanless in my youth.  He was a well-known expert of pituitary gland development, and in my early studies of mutants, I referenced him often since the development of the pituitary gland in adolescence is linked to the appearance to mutant abilities.  The Doctor was, of course, also well aware of this fact…"

            "So, he _was making mutants…" Logan said._

            "I think he was trying to make a god…" Xavier said darkly, and Logan frowned until the Professor continued, "He came under the influence of some very powerful individuals…he went quite mad…"

            "But, they let him continue his work…" Logan said, "As long as they liked what he was doin'…"

            "And that changed with Charlene McGee…" Xavier explained, "That's the name of the young woman Erik and I met all those years ago.  After she destroyed the place where they were continuing Wanless's work…I suppose she decided her own work was finished.  She was able to disappear.  She didn't have anyone else to run from…"

            "She might have someone now…" Logan said and then added darkly, "If whoever made those claw marks I found is working for those SHOP guys or Systems Operations guys or other men like Stryker…"

            "I don't think they would try again," Xavier said, "At least not with Charlene McGee.  It's been almost twenty-five years…Stryker knew better than to look for her…"

            "That still leaves the people who built the base I found in Colorado, right?" Logan said, and Xavier looked up at him significantly.

            "Not if Stryker's men and the SHOP had become one in the same…" Xavier said, "Do you think two groups like that can survive without eventually trying to destroy each other?  Instead of working against the SHOP, Stryker made it his own…nearly twenty years ago…when Stryker started looking for a 'cure' for his mutant son."

            Logan stared at the Professor, taking in all Xavier was saying.  The SHOP had existed for over fifty years.  In that time, the power had shifted until it landed in Stryker's hands.  But…Logan had seen Stryker bound in chains before the flood at Alkalai Lake.  Logan had left him there to die…who could now be carrying on his work?

            "Stryker's dead…" Logan said with finality, "So then who would be looking for evidence of those early experiments?"

            Xavier looked up at Logan darkly, "Magneto."

            Logan frowned, "But, why?"

            Steepling his hands thoughtfully, Xavier sighed.  It was obvious that he had been weighing every other possibility…but had reached the same conclusion each time.

            "It's been eight months since Alkalai Lake, Logan," Xavier said, "Eight months since he was freed from Stryker's tyranny.  It took him nearly a decade to forge his first attack on humanity…however, I fear his patience has lessened as of late.  He is searching, gathering others to his cause…rebuilding his Brotherhood."

            "And you think he might be tryin' to recruit this 'firestarter' you met?" Logan asked, and Xavier frowned.

            "Perhaps," he said, "However, I doubt he would be able to find her by his usual means.  I fear he may try to draw her out…"

            "How?" Logan asked, intensely, and Xavier met his hard gaze firmly.

            "By finding her children."

            Logan stared at the Professor a moment with surprise.  Xavier lowered his eyes apologetically, and sighed.

            "I didn't mention it before," Xavier said, "But…when Erik and I met her, she had been pregnant.  Erik didn't know, of course, until I told him later, but…I could sense the lives she carried inside of her.  She was heading south, from Chicago, but I doubt she knew where she was going and I don't know where she finally settled.  Neither does Magneto, but given the destructiveness of her gifts, I cannot think of a more powerful ally."

            "And if her kids are mutants…why not find the whole family, right?" Logan growled sarcastically, "You think she might have hidden her kids too?"

            Xavier shook his head, "No, she didn't.  I have known of their existence for two decades.  Their father came from a strong family, who had very strong ties to the very same group which Erik Lensherr abandoned long ago."

            "That 'watch group' you belonged to…" Logan said and Xavier nodded.  

            "Shortly before my own departure from the Council," Xavier explained, "We were made aware of their birth, and the Council was sure to keep a close watch on them, both together…and apart from each other."

            Logan frowned, "So that was the guy from England, huh?  One of these 'watchers'?  Was he here about McGee's kids?"

            Xavier's expression changed and he shook his head.

            "No…strangely, no," he said, "He was actually here about our new student, Mary.  It seems…she has also been watched by the Council for some time, though for what reason, I could not draw from Travers."

            Logan nodded, "Guess that means _we_ should keep an extra eye on her, too."

            Xavier smiled, "As long as she needs our help, we will do what we can for her.  In the meantime, I think I will locate Charlene's children again with Cerebro.  If Magneto does interfere with them, I want to be there to stop him."

            "No argument here," Logan said, "I'm really not interested in Magneto having a living human bomb working for him..."

            Logan suddenly paused, a thoughtful crease forming on his brow, and a new thought dawning on him.

            "What about Pyro?" he asked quickly, "You don't think he's McGee's kid, do you?"

            Xavier shook his head, "No, John was…_is_ too young.  Her children would be at least twenty-two or twenty-three.  But you do pose an interesting point.  After all, who better to _teach_ John Allerdyce about his ability to manipulate fire than the 'firestarter' herself…"

            "Shit…" Logan said, "Guess that's why he's got a sudden interest after all these years.  His 'Brotherhood' was more brawn than brains.  Now he's gotta deal with a teenage kid packin' a fucking flamethrower…"

            Xavier nodded, "Indeed.  Please find Storm and Scott and bring them here.  We're going to need to organize what our next steps will be.  Call Rogue and Bobby as well.  As of now, these will only be preliminary actions.  We have many theories, but may not have any surety of the situation until some action is taken…whether by the SHOP…or by Magneto."

            "Or by your Council…" Logan added and Xavier sighed.

            "The Watchers' Council has existed for centuries longer than any other threat we may be presented with," Xavier said, "They, however, are less interested in mutants than their own internal affairs.  I may have disrupted a watch by bringing Mary Sloane here, but I doubt they will take action.  They can, after all, watch her as easily here as in Arizona."

            "But, now they know you're watchin' her too," Logan said with a sarcastic grin, "I'm sure that'll piss a few of them off."

            Xavier nodded, but did not return his grin, "You may be right…"

            _…But I hope you're wrong, he finished in private thought._

            The Council had more effective means than guns or bombs to rid themselves of their problems, and Xavier wondered if Travers would ever be able to convince the Council to use them against a school filled with innocents.

            Logan left to gather the others, and left Xavier alone again with his thoughts.

            So much had happened so quickly…he again wished he could speak to Jean.  But, that was not an option.

            So, Magneto may be looking for the firestarter.

            The Council of Watchers had threatened him about keeping a student in his school.

            And Cerebro is detecting more mutants…powerful mutants…every day.

            _Around the world, people fell to their knees in pain…_

            Xavier again massaged his temple with his right hand, and thought sadly on his troubled world…            

_To be continued…_


	29. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

            Henry McCoy was sitting at his desk and scribbling quickly into his notebook.  It was late, _again.  He really needed to stop making these long nights a habit…especially considering he had a class to teach in the morning.  _

            Henry yawned and stretched his arms back over his head.  The dark blue hair that covered his body stuck out at different angles from underneath his white lab shirt and pants.  He stretched the fuzzy toes of his bare feet with amusement.  He glanced over at the clock and realized it was almost midnight.  He straightened his paperwork and closed his binder.

            He was humming as he stood and clicked off the light over his desk.  

            He sat his white coffee mug on its customary place on the top of his filing cabinet and opened the office door.

            With a bang, he closed the door behind him a little harder than he had intended.  He sighed, and shook his head.  He really needed to relearn his own strength.

            Within the dark office, the filing cabinet near the door shook when the door slammed…and the white coffee mug wobbled a moment, before falling to the floor.  It shattered, breaking into small white ceramic shards.  

            In the morning, Dr. McCoy would find the broken mug, and clean up its remains without a second thought.

***

Author's note:   Again, I own nothing from Marvel or any other universe that's found its way into this story.  Here's a quick list of the crossovers so far…

Movie – "The Prophecy" (Mary)

Book/Movie – "The Firestarter" by S.King (changed some dates here to make it work.)

T.V. – "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"  (Watcher's Council)

Movie – "Firestarter 2" (really has nothing to do with book, just the first movie)

Movie – "Dogma" (very small reference)

…all this and more pulled into the X-Men universe.  Just wanted readers to know where these characters are coming from.  Finally done book one…oh, yeah, right, this is only book one...

I've been wondering, though, what the Brotherhood has been up to all this time.  I think I'll go find out…


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